


The  Wife

by uruvielnumenesse



Category: Lord of the Rings - Fandom, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Crossover, F/M, first time I am posting in this here, taserking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 14:51:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7578328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uruvielnumenesse/pseuds/uruvielnumenesse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>it's so interesting going back and reading your own writing. And by interesting I mean cringe inducing.</p></blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather one of the servants go down instead?” Jane worriedly fussed as she wrapped a cloak around her friend’s shoulders. The once astrophysicist insisted on helping her friend dress much to the displeasure of the maids hanging about.

In the corner of her eye, Darcy nudged her head and made the maids huff and leave. With no audience to reprimand them, Darcy turned to address her best friend, boss and now Queen.

“Janey,” Darcy began and Jane relaxed a bit, becoming royalty had prevented the easy informal way the two interacted into something stiff outside bed chambers, “I haven’t been to Earth since your wedding. Going to the liquor store shouldn’t be that hard.”

“I know,” Jane admitted, fiddling with a loose seam in her dress, “but Thor’s reports talk of a civil war.”

And that’s the crux of the issue. Had there not been large tensions between between the founding members of the Avengers, Jane wouldn’t be forced to stay in Asgard. But alas there was tension and a surprise pregnancy which made Jane reluctantly ask her friend to do this favor for her.  
Grabbing her queen’s hands, which were once calloused from hauling her own scientific equipment and were now as soft as a baby’s bottom, in her own, Darcy could only comfort her.

“It’s a simple pick up, you said you were craving chocolate,” Darcy’s tone was light and teasing.

“If it’s so simple, then I shall have one of the servants do it, Darcy.” Jane regally mocked, her stoic face breaking as the two giggled.

Darcy rolled her eyes and pulled a proper curtsy, and snobbishly replied.

“As the head handmaiden of the Queen of Asgard, it is my duty to fulfill all of your wishes.”

“By Einstein, Darcy you are beginning to sound like them!” Jane snorted in a manner ill-fitting the Queen. 

“By Einstein? Who even says that Jane?” Darcy smirked. She guided her friend to her bed as she looked for her old satchel. 

“I’m the Queen! I can say whatever I want!” Jane pouted as she laid on the bed. The Queen of the Stars and Science idly watched her friend scurry around grabbing little things like old credit cards, cash, and her taser all of which wasn’t needed in Asgard but needed for a trip to earth.  
“As my lady commands.” Darcy sarcastically says. Satisfied with what she placed in her bag, Darcy stretched her hand out to help her friend out of the bed.

The two women exit the private chambers and head towards the Bifrost with several handmaidens trailing the Queen and head handmaiden. 

“Heimdall.” Jane nodded her head at the Watcher of the Realms.

“My Queen.” Heimdall deeply bowed.

“Hurry back and be careful, you understand?” Jane’s brow furrowed and she hugged her friend tightly.

“Whoa, my lady, it’s just a quick trip to Earth and back.” Darcy hugged her friend and threw a confused glance to Heimdall who simply stared back.

“I’m serious Darce. I have this weird feeling and given the things we’ve been through together, I want you to be careful.” Darcy raised a brow but nodded as she listened to her friend. Squeezing her friend once last time, Darcy moved away and calls out, 

“Beam me down, Scotty.”

Bright colors engulfed Darcy and blinded all but Heimdall from Darcy’s departure.  
————————————————————————————  
Once her vision was cleared, Darcy immediately noticed one thing. She was not any where near a damned connivence store, or even a town.

“What the hell?” Darcy swore.

Green. Green. Green. Green everywhere. Green leaves, green plants, trees higher than any trees she has ever seen, including the ones found in Hogun’s realm. Looking from side to side, Darcy could not see any signs of civilization, perhaps Heimdall dropped her off in the wrong place?

No, Darcy immediately thinks, Heimdall doesn’t put you in the wrong place. Pulling her shoulders back, Darcy took a deep breath and began to move in random direction, hoping to find some sort of civilization. Only one thought ran through her mind. If Heimdall wasn’t wrong where on earth, if it was earth, could she be?  
——————————————————————————  
Thranduil’s mind was filled with grief. His father, his king, his only remaining kin was gone. Gone until Thranduil sailed west. Surveying the remaining soldiers, the newly crowned king, Thranduil was tempted to join his family. How was he to rule the Greenwood if his father was not there to guide him?

The survivors of the Battle of Dagorlad wearily marched back to their homes in the wood. Their once glistening armor, and proud countenance was wilted. Not even the healing of Imladris could ease their weary souls in the way that Greenwood the Great could.

As the company neared the forest they called home, Thranduil felt his entire being slightly relaxing. The Greenwood King called out to his soldiers and felt his lips curl a little as his people cheered and songs of gladness permeated the woods. Perhaps things would be better now that they were back in the safety of their realms.  
—————————————————————————–  
“Fuck the woods!” Darcy snarled as she tripped over a lifted root. 

The head handmaiden had been wandering around lost in the forest for several hours and she had yet to see an exit. If it were not for the extensive training she received as being the only intern for a scientist and a queen, Darcy would have given up in exhaustion ages ago. Still, after pushing branches away from her face, Darcy’s body felt the fatigue threaten to overwhelm her.

“I swear when I see Heimdall I will kick his ass.” Darcy promised to herself as she stopped in front of a tree. 

Kicking her impractical flats off, Darcy picked up the hems of her dress and swiftly sat down at the base of the trunk. Leaning her head against the hard tree, Darcy was unaware of the creature that followed her through the forest. She failed to hear the hissing as fangs grew.  
——————————————————————————-  
The river was in sight. Thranduil signaled for the company to stop and got off his mount and brought it to the river.

With the river here, our home is but a few hours away, Thranduil thought. A few of the elves knelt at the river to take sips of water. Others were talking in low tones, and the rest with singing mournful songs as they thought of their fallen kin.

When one of his personal guards hands him a cloth to scrub away the grime that accumulated on his face, Thranduil gracefully moved away from his company and towards a more private end of the river.

It was there, bent over with water dripping on his face that Thranduil heard frightened screams.  
————————————————————————————  
Darcy’s heart pounded so violently in her chest, she was certain that it would launch itself at the giant spider in a suicidal attempt. Never taking her eyes off the damned eight-legged creature, Darcy groped at her satchel looking for something to defend herself with. 

To her dismay, the creature was slowly crawling ever close making Darcy shiver at the thought of the hairy legs coming anywhere near her body. 

A quick glance downwards at her bag showed nothing that would be of use…except her old car keys. She wrapped her fingers around it and pointed the sharp (though it was really dull) edges towards the spider.

Recognizing what little threat the shiny sticks in the woman’s hands were, the spider scurried rapidly towards the cowering female ready to devour her.

Darcy tried to back away, failing to see a shallow hole with roots and decayed branches hiding it. 

A snap of bone and a pained yelp followed.

Pain. Pain. Pain. Darcy couldn’t help but whimper as the fire encompassed her leg and the damned creature continued to menacingly stalk to her.

Oh, god. This is how I’ll die. By a fucking rabbit’s hole and the thing of nightmares, Darcy panicked. 

Until a long, sharp, glimmering blade sliced the damned thing in half.

Darcy opened her eyes, (when did she close them?), and was amazed at the sight before her. A man, tall and lithe with long flowing locks stood triumphantly over the defeated spider. Placing a booted heel on the spider, the man wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his sword and yanked it out.

Darcy had to rub her eyes before she realized that yes the man was glowing with a warm light engulfing him.

“Are you hurt?” Thranduil tilted his head and glanced at the mortal woman in concern. 

“What did you say?” Darcy crinkled her brow. That wasn’t any language she knew.

“What sort of mortal maiden does not understand Westron?” Thranduil asked himself as he cautiously came closer to the shaking woman.

“Fucking hell, he’s hotter than Thor.” Darcy stilled as the man knelt in front of her.

The blond held his hands out in a non threatening manner and began speaking in an airy language that lulled Darcy into a calm state.

Placing her hands on her chest, Darcy slowly said, “Darcy.”

Then she pointed her hand at the blond’s chest. The man’s eyes widened when he realized what she was trying to convey.

“Thranduil.” He mimicked the woman.

Darcy sighed in relief and slumped when the man-was he even a man?- offered her a hand.

Shaking her head when the man threw another question at her, Darcy tried to rise from where she had been sitting. She only managed to her knees before her body gave out.

Darcy offered a timid smile. That seemed to be the only thing she could properly convey to this man.

Thranduil tilted his head in confusion.

Darcy gestured to her foot which was rapidly darkening and swelling. 

Thranduil’s eyes widened in understanding and in sympathy. A foot injury would hinder the time it would take to get back to his battalion. One of his guards might notice his absence and sent out scouts to look for him. Which would be fine if the sky had not begun to darken.

“You cannot walk, Darcy. Would it be alright to carry you?” Thranduil asked, glancing at the sky and around the forest.

If one spider was bold enough to attack in broad daylight, he had no desire to see more creatures at night.

The woman babbled something at him, which he took as an affirmative.  
Like a sack of flours, Darcy was thrown over his shoulders leaving his hand free to grasp his sword should he need it.

Darcy had no energy to shriek at Thranduil for his behaviour and limply held on as he began to exit the clearing. Other than fixing her hair so it was out of her face, Darcy watched as her surroundings changed and Thranduil’s butt muscles flex as he walked.

The journey to the battalion was silent.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's so interesting going back and reading your own writing. And by interesting I mean cringe inducing.

Their arrival to the camp of world weary elves was met with curious elves. Darcy had to smother a snort with her hand when she saw the pointed eyes and long shiny hair. Thranduil finding her had been a one-off, she had assumed. Yet these armoured lithe people stood before her and him.  
One elf, androgynous enough, broke away from the gathered crowd and knelt in front of Darcy’s rescuer.  
“My lord, are you hurt?” Gillian, servant of Oropher and now Thranduil, asked.

His eyes darted to the small mortal woman in his king’s arms. The elf had also noted that the blade that never left his lordship was absent from its sheath.

The king shook his head. “Focus on the mortal woman. I found a spider attempting to eat her.”

Darcy grunted in pain when Thranduil shifted her slightly. Both ellons glanced downwards at her. She had never felt as small or defenseless then when these two illuminated beings stared down at her. Don’t show fear, she had thought.

“A spider? This close to the Greenwood?” Gilrean frowned. His dark, thick brows furrowed in worry.

“Aye, it would be best to have nightly patrols until we reach the Greenwood.” Thranduil said.

Darcy, who was more focused on the throbbing of her foot, could barely understand what was going on. The language barrier was awful and the body language of the elf dudes was so miniscule she would need a magnifying glass to watch. All she knew was that Thranduil uttered something and walked off with her somewhere unknown.

“To the healers we go, maiden.” Thranduil had said.   
\----  
The celebration that was thrown when Thranduil and his company returned was amazing, yet there was an undertone of grief as many of his own people, ells and elleths that he had known since his days in Doriath, had fallen in battle. Elvish maidens danced and laughed with Ellons. A jaunty tune was played by the bards and wine was ever flowing.

Sitting in a wooden throne that was far more simpler than any created by the Noldor but no less majestic, Thranduil surveyed the celebration with a single goblet of wine. Unlike his citizens, he was content to stay where he was and simply observe. However, the human woman whom he saved months previously was not content to watch him brood.

“You not happy.” The short mortal stated in broken Silvan. Thranduil said nothing but glanced at the woman. That was merely a statement, one that did not invite a response.

“Why?” The woman prodded. Dressed in a simple, altered gown the woman stood at his throne instead of dancing amongst his people.

“This,” Thranduil subtly gestured the entire scene before him, “is more than just a celebration of the defeat of Sauron. It is a reminder of what we have lost.” Of who we had lost.

As a prince, Thranduil was taught to deal with his emotions in private in a manner befitting his station but now here he sat publicly mourning with the entire Woodland Realm. To sit here and watch as some cried and others laugh made him feel ill at ease. Yet, it was his duty.

The woman’s eyes gazed into his own as if to examine the very depths of his soul. Her blue eyes seemed to burn into him and had caused an odd sensation in his abdomen that was oddly pleasant. The mortal broke their gazes by looking to one of the bards as a new slower singing took place. Thranduil could see the woman’s face turn wistful as several elves moved to the center of the forest and began to dance. 

“Do they not dance in your homeland?” Thranduil slowly asked, waiting patiently as the mortal mentally translated his words.

“There are many types of dances from where I come from.” The woman sighed. Her long dark wavy tresses covered her face as she bowed her head to hide her shining eyes. Perhaps, Thranduil reasoned when he saw her shoulders shake, the woman was wishing for her homeland.

Not wishing to see this woman cry, the elvish king arose from his throne and asked the mortal to dance. After a few, quick spins Thranduil had the woman laughing and the pressure that he felt in his chest dissipated.   
===================================================  
As much as she missed Asgard and Earth, there was something about Greenwood the Great that made Darcy feel alive. Perhaps it was the trees, or the people, or rather one person in particular. Several months had past since she appeared in the woods, but living amongst elves made time slow down or at least it that's the way it appeared to her. These beings, Darcy mused as she heaved a jug full of wine towards the moody king, are timeless and everything goes still with them.

“Are you still in brooding, Thran?” She asked cheerfully, ignoring the scandalized looks at her informal way. When the king glared at her, Darcy smiled and refilled the elf’s cup.

“A king does not brood. And please refer to me as Thranduil. I detest that epesse of yours.” Thranduil replied as he, in fact, brooded. Hunched over his throne, Thranduil watched his reflection in the goblet.

Darcy rolled her eyes and moved close enough to lean against the throne and crossed her arms.

“Then what do you call that?” She gestured all of Thranduil and raised her eyebrows as if to say ‘there, see you’re brooding’. She ignored the command to cease and desist with the nickname, it amused her and irritated him so it would stay.

Thranduil huffed and in a fit of childishness ignored her. Darcy bit her lip and felt a seed of real concern bloom in her chest. Despite his arrogance, Thranduil was always courteous to her-the realm looked to his behaviour to imitate. It was rare for him to be like this. Was there something actually bothering Thranduil? For something to truly offend the normally calm king, it must have been something really terrible.

In the corner of his eye, Thranduil noticed Darcy set down the jug, and felt the warmth of her palm on his shoulder. Her head followed suit, resting on the other shoulder.

“And what has offended our great king?” Darcy whispered in his ear, causing a shiver of delight to race down Thranduil’s back.

“Tis childish,” Thranduil began. He began to relax, unaware of how tense he was.

“Not childish if it offends my king.” Darcy cajoled as she wrapped her arms around the king’s shoulders.

“The bard, he was singing the ballad of Luthien Tinuviel."   
Darcy was confused. Thranduil was getting worked up about a song? Was this some type of cultural thing that she didn’t get?

"Luthien?”

“Luthien, daughter of Melian, was an elf maiden who gave up her life for her lover, Beren.”

What disturbed Thranduil was not the song itself, but the parallels that he could not help but see. He, an immortal, falling in love with a mortal, Darcy. Was he too fated for the unknown because of whom he chose to love? All of this, Thranduil did not say aloud, but Darcy knew.  
Her eyes widened in surprise and then she hugged her love tighter in sympathy.

“We are not them.” Darcy said firmly, and she gently grasped Thranduil’s chin and forced him to look at her.

“We won’t have their fates.” She sealed her promise with a kiss on his lips.  
———————————————————————————–  
“I CAN TAKE CARE OF MYSELF.” Darcy yelled as she furiously trailed after her lover. In her anger, she ignored the tittering of other elves. For this was not the first time the king and his mistress fought.

“You did not hear what he said.” Thranduil lost his own composure and yelled right back.  
Indeed, the man from Dale had said several things in Westron that had Thranduil’s blood boiling and itching to use his sword. 

“That gives you no right to nearly maul the man!” Darcy sighed tiredly. The sad thing about learning Silvan was you couldn’t really express your anger. The language was too pretty and it sucked that Thranduil didn’t know English.

“He called you my human whore.” The man had spent the entire evening leering at Darcy’s chest and snickering with his companions about how a mortal caught the attention of a king by spreading her legs. Thranduil had felt no remorse in teaching the foolish man a lesson.

“I could’ve taken care of it.” Darcy mumbled as Thranduil pulled her to his side. She sighed with content as Thranduil slowly kissed her mouth and down her body. 

“Perhaps,” Kiss “we” kiss “should” kiss “marry” kiss “it” kiss “would” kiss “stop” kiss “people” kiss “if” kiss “they” kiss “knew” kiss “that” kiss “they” kiss “insulted” kiss “a” kiss “queen”.  
Thranduil smiled into Darcy’s neck when he felt her go rigid with shock. The smile didn’t leave his face even when Darcy pushed him backwards onto the bed and straddled him. 

“You serious?!” Darcy gaped. And when she saw Thranduil smirk and nod she shrieked happily.

Thranduil laughed when she bent down to kiss him soundly.  
——————————————————————————  
The entire Greenwood was ecstatic when their beloved king announced his intent to marry mortal. Sure there where some who disapproved of the mortal but overall the elves of Greenwood were happy that their king was happy. It did help that the mortal, Darcy, was as kind as she was beautiful.  
Though, deep in the hearts of the elves, they felt some pity for their king. A human lifespan would not be enough for their king.  
——————————————————————————–  
“I get a flower crown? Wicked.” Darcy said as an elleth with flaming red hair placed the crown upon her head. The brightness of the flowers made her hair stand out more than usual. A rare brunette amongst a sea of blonds and redheads.

 

“My lady, would you like assistance with your dress?” The elleth asked politely.

Darcy was hesitant to touch the dress. The fabric was so fine that she was afraid that it was going to rip the second she touched it. The stitching was done so well, that she couldn’t really tell where new fabrics began and ended. The coloring also complimented both her eyes and figure. It was designed for a short, curvy mortal rather than a tall, slim elleth.

After a moment's pause, Darcy nodded. As the elf maiden helped her, Darcy couldn’t help but grin widely. Today was the day.  
————————————————————————————  
The wedding of King Thranduil and Queen Darcy was one that would live on in the memory of all who attended. The usually brash, and loud queen was so demure and shy on that day. And the normally impassive king was grinning and even cheerfully partook in the merriment.

The royal couple also danced with their people. And the party lasted until the dawn of new day.


	3. Chapter 3

For once, the Greenwood was extra green today. Darcy liked to think that it was because of how happy she and Thranduil were. In reality, it was the spring showers that encompassed the woods that made them seem all the brighter.  
The gentle taps of rain hitting water relaxed the queen into such a lethargic state. Something she always fought when she was busy running errands or running from things with Jane.  
“The rain is so relaxing,” Darcy blissfully yawned into her husband’s shoulder, “I feel like staying in bed all day.”  
Her elvish husband lightly ran his fingertips down Darcy’s bareback. His form stretched as he shifted to lounge in a more agreeable way.  
“Hmm, I agree.” It was so warm and comfortable basking in the presence of his wife, that Thranduil was inclined to ignore the Dwarvish company that he requested. He smirked when Darcy squirmed away from his light touches.  
“Stop it! You’ve got kingly things to do.” She laughed as she batted Thranduil’s away. Darcy began to gently push her husband out of the bed. Unfortunately, her elven lover was not too keen in leaving the bed at all. Thranduil allowed his love to push him to the edge of the bed only to relax at the last minute and fell backwards clutching his wife to his breast.  
“Thranduil!” Darcy squawked into his chest.  
“The Naugrim can wait. I have a far more precious jewel in my hands.” Thranduil’s hooded gaze watched as a pretty, pink flush travel from Darcy’s face to much much lower. And like the first few years together, the King and Queen ignored a single day of politics for a day in bed.  
———————————————————————————–  
“Why doesn’t it fit!” Darcy huffs as her handmaiden gently tightened the laces. However the laces could only be tighted so far before she felt breathless.   
“My lady, perhaps another dress?” Her handmaiden, Lasseth asked. The Silvan elf did not expect her Queen to burst into tears.  
“It should fit! I haven’t gained that much weight!” Darcy rubs at her eyes childishly.   
She didn’t understand! Yes, her diet has changed and yes she’s indulged in an extra pastry or two but that shouldn’t have made her gain enough weight to not fit! Seriously, not fitting into a dress shouldn’t have reduced her to tears. She spent years getting the confidence to be proud of her body! Yet, as Darcy glances at Lasseth, she couldn’t help but feel lacking.  
If there was one thing that elves were good at, it was being so beautiful that you immediately feel lacking. Tall, unblemished, skinny and unattainable? They were literally the beauty standards from her childhood. And to make it worse, it was effortless and natural!  
Lasseth paused and then stared critically at Darcy’s breasts and then at her stomach. Her eyes widened which caused Darcy in turn to panic.  
“What’s wrong, Lasseth?” Darcy asked. The blonde Silvan elf took her Queen’s elbow and guided her to the bed.   
“My lady, when did you last bleed?” Lasseth’s green eyes demurely looked into Darcy’s own.  
Darcy furrowed her brows. Time seems to slow down so much when living amongst the Elders that she couldn’t really recall her last period. Although why should it matter?  
“I’m not sure.” She admitted. The Queen was startled when Lasseth jumped up and touched her stomach.  
“You are with child.” The blonde elf proclaimed. Darcy let out a laugh but stopped when she saw the serious look on her handmaiden’s face.  
Instead of a quick denial, Darcy instead asked, “What makes you so sure that I am with child?”  
Do they even have a word for pregnant in Silvan or Sindarian, Darcy thought to herself.  
“I have a child, I know the signs.” Lasseth said. The elf thought of her own fire kissed daughter.  
Darcy placed her hand on her stomach. She couldn’t tell if she was pregnant, and if she was, well, she was going to need confirmation before she said anything to Thranduil. Inwardly steeling herself, Darcy stood and beckoned her handmaiden to follow her to the healers, not noticing that her dress wasn’t fully laced.  
———————————————————————————-  
Thranduil furiously paced in his study. How dare those Naugrim try to fool him! Attempting to change the price on a closed deal, did they think him foolish to even dare do this? A simple necklace was not worth what they asked for it!   
The king snarled and grabbed the goblet that was innocently sitting on his desk. He gulped down the wine in it and threw the damned thing at an opening door. His unruffled Queen simple ducked and gave him an unimpressed look.  
“I take it the negotiations went sour?” Darcy parked herself on her husband’s desk.   
“Those lying, thieving Naugrim should be thankful for the opportunity to serve us!”  
“What did you want from them anyways?” Darcy slid off the desk, mindful of her stomach, and reached for her husband’s arm. Thranduil pulled his wife’s hand to his face and sighed.  
“It was a surprise for your begetting day.” A beautiful, mithril necklace filled with pearls. An accessory that would have made his glowing, mortal wife even lovelier.  
“Thranduil,” He looked down at his Queen. “I did not marry you for gifts or trinkets. I married you for love.”  
“Aye, but-” Darcy placed her index over her lover’s mouth, eyes twinkling as she did so.  
“Besides, you should direct your attention to our child not the dwarves.”  
There was something satisfying in seeing her husband’s eyes bulge. It was less satisfying trying to get him off the ground after his fainting spell.


	4. Chapter 4

Elvish healers, aka doctors, were a god send, Darcy thought as she felt the gentle prodding on her stomach. True, this world didn’t have ultrasounds like on Earth, nor the molecular viewer thingy that Asgard had, but elves had a special magic that certainly made them seem all knowing. Which did a lot to put the mortal at ease, because if the healers were smiling and doing that glow thing-y then what did Darcy possibly have to worry about?

“Do you know when you conceived?” The healer, a red-headed male who was apparently the mate of Lasseth, asked politely. Darcy shook her head, but her husband answered.

“It was after the leaves began to darken. The second day of September.” Thranduil held his wife’s hand and smiled at her look of surprise. Did she really think that he did not remember every encounter they ever had?

The healer, Uron, bowed to his King before facing his mortal Queen.

“Is there anything you wish to know, my lady?” Upon starred into the blue eyes of the Queen who captured the loyalty of his distrusting wife. Lasseth had been restless the night before and did not explain why. Now the healer understood. It was near impossible to be still and calm with the blessed news of his King having an heir.

He watched as the King and Queen share a look with each other. A thousand words said and he did not know what when through their heads.The Queen bit her lip and shyly looked away, blush dusting the top of her cheeks.

It was such an intimate moment that the fire-kissed healer averted his eyes.

“How long does an elvish pregnancy last?”

“A year, my lady.” The Queen paled dramatically.

“WHAT?”

—————————————————————————————-  
Throughout the course of her pregnancy Darcy often found herself in the kitchens. Thranduil gave up trying to have her resting in bed.

“My Lady!” One of the cooks looked appalled as Darcy rummaged through one of the pantries in search of a certain food item. 

Darcy waved off the cook and continued looking. How was it, that the royal kitchen, lacked the one thing that she craved?

“You don’t have potatoes?” She snarled, then immediately apologized when a kitchen maid burst into tears. To her dismay, her eyes began to water as well.

Fucking pregnancy hormones.

—————————————————————————————

Thranduil was reading one of the scout reports when a messenger came running in. The messenger bowed before handing the king a letter.

“You have my thanks.” Thranduil politely said before dismissing the messenger. 

The King was unsurprised to see that the parcel was from Lord Elrond. That wasn’t too strange as the rulers of the last remaining Elven strongholds kept in contact. What was surprising was the invitation to visit Imladris with his wife to celebrate the marriage of Elrond and Celebrian.

“Whatcha reading?” His mortal wife whispered in that strange language of hers, English.

“There is to be a gather of elves in Imladris.” Thranduil was unfazed by Darcy’s unsubtle attempts to sneak up on him. He shivered slightly when she blew into his ear.

“That’s totally not fair. Elf senses totally suck.” Darcy pouted so cutely that Thranduil kissed her, for once not adhering to the social customs which dictated that they have their affections in private.

“That’s not what you said last night.” Thranduil countered mildly. He pushed back his chair and tugged his pregnant wife unto his lap. He stifled a wince when Darcy fidgeted trying to get comfortable.

“Anyways, what’s this letter about? A party you said?” Darcy squinted and brought the paper close to her face. Her glasses lost in the Bifrost leaving her somewhat handicapped.

“Aye, the union of Elrond Half-Elven and Celebrian, the Lady of Lothlorien.” Thranduil was honestly surprised. He knew about Elrond’s love for the silver lady, but he was unaware that she reciprocated his affections or that Galadriel would allow her beloved daughter to leave the safety of her realm.

“Half-Elven? Like our child?” Darcy asked, placing her hand over her protruding stomach.

“More or less.” More complicated as Elrond was descended from a mixed heritage of Elves, Men, and Maia.

“Do you think he can help us?” Darcy turned her eyes at her husband. After becoming pregnant, Darcy began her research. She did not know anything about Half-Elves. To her surprise, there was very little. There were only ballads about Luthien and Beren. 

Thranduil hummed as he thought. Elrond was a healer, and one who witnessed all sort of interesting things. Perhaps he could. Would help.

Taking that as a yes, Darcy rocked a bit to get back on her feet and smiled brightly.

“I will prepare my bags then!” She cheerily said before doing a strange combination of skipping and waddling out of the room.

“Then I must write back accepting the invitation.” Thranduil softly said to himself. The blond haired king sighed as he began the tedious introduction to his letter.

———————————————————————————-

“My lady-” Lasseth the handmaiden eyed her strong willed Queen.

“Call me Darcy, Lasseth.” Darcy said as she threw dresses on her bed. She held one up to her chest and wrinkled her nose. No fit for meeting legit Elvish royalty. She left that one on the floor.

“My- Darcy, is it safe for you to travel?” The blonde handmaiden’s eyes traveled down to the Queen’s belly which housed the royal heir. 

“I’m pregnant not invalid, Lasseth.” Darcy laughed lightly. Sure she was nearly 9 months pregnant, but she wasn’t as big as she thought she was. Nor was she as tired as she expected to be. All in all, this whole becoming a mother was the smoothest transition she ever had. That even included her moving from intern to first handmaiden on Asgard.

“It is still not safe out the Greenwoods.” Orcs roamed in packs outside the borders, and there were the children of Giant Spider to contend with.

“I’ll have the Kingsguard and my husband to protect me.” Darcy exasperatedly said. 

“And me.” Lasseth proudly said.

“And you?” Darcy raised a brow.

“Aye, before I was assigned to be your handmaiden, I was the captain of the Kingsguard. It is an honor to protect my Queen.” Lasseth knelt and placed her hand over chest.

“For the love of God. Elves and their dramatics.” Darcy muttered as she made Lasseth get up.

“Alright. If you’re coming then you can help me pick an outfit for this occassion.” Darcy said in Sindarin. Lasseth smiled and so the two continued to look for dresses.

————————————————————————————–

Sometimes Darcy forgot that as a Queen that her life was more public and private than before. Before she and Thranduil even left the palace, there was already a crowd of elves waiting for them. Flowers were thrown at them and there was joyful singing in the air.

A little elleth, a red haired one, flew towards Darcy’s direction.

“Naneth!” And went straight to Lasseth who was quick to sheath her knives.

“Tauriel. You should not run.” The blonde elleth scolded fondly. The little elleth pouted but nodded. Tauriel turned her green eyes towards the mortal Queen who was watching them. Another quick glance showed the King watching his Queen.

When she saw the Queen beckon to her, Tauriel shyly turned towards her mother.

“Go, the Queen does not bite.” Her mother firmly said. 

Tauriel slowly walked to the Queen and did a bow. Her face stayed down until she felt the soft hands of her Queen tilt her head up. The Queen had a quirked smile on her face.

“Hello, little one.” The Queen breathed out. Tauriel’s eyes snapped to the Queen’s face. The first thing she saw was the small, lines that began to crawl upon the Queen’s face. The second thing the red headed elleth noticed was the mortal’s eyes. They were blue like the kings, and kinder to look at.

“Hello, my Queen.” Tauriel replied, flustered.

“It’s nice to meet Lasseth’s daughter.” The Queen said, her eyes danced with amusement. She seemed to be aware of Tauriel’s nervousness. 

“It is an honor to meet the Queen of Greenwood the Great.” Was the response of the young elleth. Her high pitched voice inwardly made Darcy squeal. The two chatted, with Darcy cajoling the elleth, for a few minutes before she felt the procession begin to move again.

“Come, Darcy. We must begin our journey.” A deep voice regally said behind from Darcy. Feeling a hand on the small of her back told her that it was her husband.

Darcy sighed, but nodded. She waved at Tauriel, who was saying her own goodbyes to her mother, with her father beside her.

Darcy allowed her husband to direct her to..wait was that a fucking moose?

“You ride a moose?” She shot a disbelieving look at her husband. Thranduil came close and smirked at her. His blue eyes dancing with laughter.

“He is an elk.” Was the only response before Darcy was picked up and placed on the elk. Thranduil’s graceful mount followed hers.

“My friend, may our ride be smooth as your hooves be swift.” Thranduil conversed in Silvan to the giant elk. Darcy just shook her head.

As the journey began to Imladris, all she could think was, ’freaking elves’.


	5. Chapter 5

The first few hours passed easily. The scenery hardly changed at all as the Elvish procession slowly made their way out of the center of Greenwood. Even though it has been several years since her arrival to Arda, she still gasped in delight over the beauty of her Elvish home. The trees were green and tall and humming with unseen energy. The forest felt even more ethereal when the Elves that surrounded her began to sing.

"I'll never get used to this." Darcy happily sighed as she leaned into the hard chest of her lover. Thranduil tightened his grip around her midsection, mindful of the ever increasing baby bump, and nuzzled her neck discreetly.

"With all the time given to us by the Valar, I will never tire of this." Thranduil lowly said in English. Teaching him her language had been quite an experience; one that she would remember alongside tazing Thor.

When Darcy didn't respond in the sweet, shy manner that she usually did after he did something particularly 'romantic', Thranduil looked down and saw his mortal love deep in thought. Perhaps she needed rest already?

"We stop here for the night." Thranduil did not raise his voice too much. Elvish hearing, as his Darcy would say, had its perks. The entire procession slowed to a stop. Several ellons and elleths went off in different directions no doubt to make sure no spiders came to this gathering.

Still astride his elk with his Queen, Thranduil saw Darcy's handmaiden Lasseth with two other elleths come forward to assist Darcy down.

Stiffly sliding off the elk, Darcy gripped the handmaiden's hands as she tried standing. The elleth cooed and murmured soothing things to their pregnant Queen. Darcy endured this gracefully before swearing in English under her breath. I grew up on a horse ranch, why the hell do I feel like a newbie? Riding a giant ass elk isn't that different from a horse.

The brunette felt soreness in her thighs and a dull throbbing ache in her lower back. As the elf women guided her to a particularly soft patch of grass, Darcy let out a groan of relief. She gratefully took the waterskin from husband and leaned against him when he informally sat behind her. His long legs served as resting places for her arms, while his broad chest relieved some of the pressure on her back.

A servant handed her husband a basket of foods, which she eagerly snatched. Cheeks puffed like the rodents found in the cellars, she happily munched on breads and cheese, occasionally handing Thranduil a piece.

“You lasted longer than I thought you would.” Thranduil’s chest rumbled pleasantly. The king surveyed the campsite and nodded with approval as the elves cautiously set up camp.

Few stood guard at the outskirts of the campsite.

Darcy wearly snorted. She struggled a bit, but managed to turn and shoot her husband an amused look.

“I took down a god, Thranduil. A little riding isn’t going to wear me out.” Darcy sniffed proudly. 

“That's not what you screamed last night.” Thranduil whispered, his lips pressing into the shell of his wife’s ear. He hummed smugly when Darcy swatted his hands. 

“Anyway, which way are we traveling?” 

“We travel west and we will cross the Anduin. From there we will enter Lothlorien.” And avoid Dol Goldur,Thranduil thought.

“Why not go south and then cross the Anduin? Isn’t that faster?” Darcy asked. She really should’ve paid attention to that tutor, but in all honestly geography in Arda was just as boring as Earth’s.

Too bad Google Maps wasn't available here.

“It is not wise to knowingly cross into the territory of the abominations without an army.” Thranduil’s tone was clipped and stiff. Any other person would have quailed at the frosty tones but not Darcy. 

“Abominations? Very dramatic.” Darcy bravely rolled her eyes.

“Yrch are unnatural. I would not endanger you nor our child for a quicker route.” Thranduil frowned. Darcy gently smoothed her lover’s face. 

“I know, love, I know.” Darcy opened her mouth to offer more comfort but gasped when she felt a fluttering in her stomach. There was deliberate spots where her stomach was pushed against.

“Thranduil, feel!” Darcy hastened to put Thranduil’s long hands on her stomach. She moved his hands until she settled on a spot. 

“By Elbereth!” Thranduil reverently said. He could feel the tiniest kicks against his hands. In awe he cradled Darcy’s stomach. The Elven king was unaware of his face becoming wet with tears. How strange it was to be father. Would their child take after him or Darcy? Would it be a quiet child or a rambunctious one? Golden haired or locks as dark as tree bark? No doubt it would be beautiful and smart.

Thranduil looked up into the eyes of his smiling wife and not for the first time felt the tendrils of happiness wrap around his heart. Darcy didn’t have the heart to tell him that she had started to feel the contractions.  
**********************************************************************************************  
“Run to the river!” 

Thranduil, alongside his guards, held out his sword neatly cutting down orcs. He furiously cursed as more orcs swarmed their resting areas. Fighting these creatures in packs always made battle uncertain. Quantity over quality won in battles like these no matter how skilled warriors are.

In the corner of his eye, the Elven king saw his wife being pulled away from the site of the battle by her handmaiden. The pregnant mortal narrowly dodged the swipe of an orc, and in turn used that strange lightning device on it. 

“Witch!” One of the orcs hissed. More turned and headed to attack the Queen. Darcy swallowed nervously, covering her stomach with one hand, and wielding the lightning box in the other. She ignored the tugging from her handmaiden. 

“I’m not leaving without him!” He heard her cry out. Ducking to avoid a black arrow, he turns. Nostrils flaring and eyes dilating, Thranduil stabs another orc.

“GO!” The loud command startles Darcy into moving but not being turning her pale face towards him.

“Come back to me!” She whispered, before painfully speed walking/waddling away with Passeth covering her from behind.

She does not see his pained look before diving back into the fight.  
********************************************************************************************  
“My lady hurry!” Lasseth urged. The blonde elleth had two daggers in her hands and was suspiciously eyeing everything. They were away from the battle but they were still too close for her liking. 

Darcy clutched the basket, which had her taser and crumbs, like a life line.

“I can’t.” Darcy panted, everything felt like it was on fire and her body was in agony. She could feel the contraction time getting shorter and shorted. A single step forward caused Darcy’s legs to buckle. She would have brained herself had Lasseth not caught her.

“Come!” Lasseth hauled up her Queen and tried to move her, but stopped at the pained gasp that escaped Darcy.

“Stop stop stop.” Darcy shrieked. Sharp, hot pains wracked her body. Oh god! She cried out in pain as she doubled over and clutched at her stomach.

“Oh no!” Lasseth guided her Queen to the base of a tree and held her hand. She ignored the pain in her hand as Darcy harshly squeezed and groaned in pain. Her worried eyes looked into Darcy’s determined ones. The labor was beginning.  
*****************************************************************************************  
“It’s a son, Darcy.” Forgetting any notion of formality, Lasseth grinned at her sweating, and tired Queen. She held the bloodied child and handed him to his mother.

“A son?” Darcy’s body felt so heavy, she just wanted to sleep. Her arms cradled her son to her chest and cherished the warmth of her crying baby. She weakly tugged her cloak off and wrapped him in it. She didn’t even feel the afterbirth slipping from her body.

Gods, she was so tired. She looked up from her son and drowsily watched as her Queensguard stand up suddenly and tilt her head like a hound. Darcy silently held her breath when Lasseth’s face, a jovial look, took a downturn and look alarmed.

“We must go!” Lasseth unsheathed her knives and gracefully positioned herself in front of Darcy protectively.

Struggling, popping out a child was a lot more energy consuming than she thought, Darcy unsteadily got to her feet. She shushed her son, terrified that any sounds would draw the attention of the yrch. 

A lesser woman would have been incoherently sobbing hysterically on the floor, and had her son waited before demanding his entrance of the world, she would have been that woman.

As it was, she panicked when Lasseth made her blindly go on by herself.

“I will hold them off.” The elleth promised as she headed to wherever the source of fighting was, leaving Darcy and the child alone.  
*******************************************************************************************  
"Hush now, my baby," Darcy clutched her squealing baby close and carried a basket in another hand as she hurried towards the river. She dared not look back as the last of her guards battled those horrid Orcs. The Greenwood Queen didn't stop to think of her immortal husband fighting amongst his guards.

The river! The river was in sight, with depleted energy Darcy ran closer ignoring the pain that her little elfling brought when he began to enter the world. As she drew closer she began to hum a familiar song.

"Be still now, down cry." Darcy murmured as she reached the edge of the river. A paranoid glance revealed the surrounding area to be still and devoid of life. Perhaps the wildlife had the good sense to leave when the orcs came. If she strained her ears, Darcy could hear the distant sounds of weapons clashing. As she protectively held her son to her chest, she realized that there was no place to hide. The river wasn't shallow enough for her to cross leaving Darcy and the babe stuck.

The baby, sensing his mother's discomfort, let out loud wail. Immediately Darcy tried to shush her son. When he quieted down, the sounds of fighting grew closer. Oh god! What should she do? Darcy knew before landing in Arda that she would have stood her ground. Yet things were different now. She had a child and her body was on the verge of collapsing. Running for dear life after giving birth was not easy. Even as she walked into the river, Darcy could feel her body shutting down eager for rest.

When the hand holding the basket failed and dropped into the Anduin, an idea came to the exhausted mortal. She remembered that Elvish basket weaving was tight leaving no holes....leaving it water proof. With her little greenleaf squirming in her arms, Darcy gave out a sob. Was this surprise attack really making her think of pulling a Moses with her son? 

As Darcy's blue eyes mentally traced the still developing features of her son, she knew deep in her bones that yes she did. He'd have a better chance on the river than with the Yrch. Taking one last look at her son, and giving him a kiss on the temple, Darcy knelt in the Anduin. Pulling the basket to her, Darcy laid her son in it. She hesitated to cover her son, but the sounds of orcs drew closer.

Waddling further into the river, Darcy mentally tried to figure out what to do. She quietly sung to comfort her princeling. As the last note died on her tongue, Darcy's eyes widened. Didn't Thranduil once say that Elves had a special connection with the world? Looking around, Darcy really hoped that he was right.

Hearing her baby whimpering, mostly hungering for milk, Darcy started to sing one of the songs from her favorite movie,

"Hush now, my baby, be still now, don't cry." Tears slowly but surely slipped down Darcy's face. She gently clutched the basket, her hands refusing to let go.

"Sleep as you're rocked by the stream." Her voice cracked. Her fingers painstakingly lifted off the basket one by one.

"Sleep and remember my last lullaby." Darcy finished in English. Biting her lip, she gently pushed her son away from the shore.

Now calling out to the river Darcy began to sing the rest in Sindarin. She hoped that whatever connections her husband had with the earth extended to her son.

"River, oh river, flow gently for me!  
Such precious cargo you bear!  
Do you know somewhere he can be free?  
River, deliver him there!"

Perhaps it was her shoving of the basket, or the answer by the Anduin that safely carried away her unnamed son. A pain settled heavily in her chest. Darcy wanted to weep, yet when Orcs came into view with Lasseth nowhere insight, Darcy could only feel bittersweet relief at sending her son away.

When the orcs spotted her, Darcy squared her shoulders and sneered the damned unnatural things. The creatures, because cowards travelled in packs, laughed and muttered things to its pack mates in that foul language of theirs.

Feeling her legs beginning to fall, Darcy could only watch as an Orc notch a black arrow. Her body, heavy with exhaustion, did nothing as it flew to her. Darcy did not see her husband desperately racing to her and cutting down the creatures. All she saw was a myriad of colors surrounding her. The last thought she had was, I didn’t get to name my son.


	6. Chapter 6

Jane worriedly paced in the throne room and continued to cast nervous glances at her evil brother-in-law who sat with sigils surrounding him.

 

“Why is it taking him so long?” She hissed to her husband. Thor rigidly sat on the throne and waved off his wife’s concerns. While it was true the Thunder God was anxious for Loki to find his dearest friend, it would do no good to disrupt Loki’s concentration. He of all people knew the consequences of such actions.

 

The golden haired king pulled Jane to him, with the intent of distracting her.

 

“He is trying to find a mortal, one amongst many, in every known world.” Loki irritatedly replied. He sat cross legged and allowed his magic to tentatively connect to Yggdrasil. In the back of his mind, Loki heard Thor quietly shush his mortal. Connecting to Yggdrasil was a dangerous rush. Even the best of sorcerers can fall to the tree of life, and Loki was just as prone.

 

Yggdrasil, connecter to all the realms, branched into places that Loki had dared not to venture before. And if his freedom wasn’t on the line, he would surely avoid doing this. The moment his magic touched a piece of Yggdrasil, Loki shivered. Every living creature pulsed in him. From feeling the wind on a leaf to the dying breaths of an old man, he felt it all.

 

The trickster's eyes suddenly snapped open, unaware that his eyes were as gold as the tree of life itself. 

 

Alfheim. No. Vanaheim. No. Jotunheim. Hel no. Helheim. No. Midgard. No. Niflheim. No. Muspelheim. No. Where in the Hel was this mortal? 

 

One thing taught to all Asgardian children was to respect and fear Yggdrasil. As the tree drained his magic, Loki felt Yggdrasil pull him in many directions. Worlds flickered through his mind until finally the tree stopped in a world Loki has never seen before. Beautiful. Green. Blue. And filled with magicks never seen before.

 

Apparently Yggdrasil answered his prayers, well the Queen’s and Thor’s, for it was in this world that the mortal he was looking for was found.

 

The mortal, Lois something or another, was standing in water with a bloodied dress. She was shouting at some ugly creatures that carried primitive weapons. The defenseless woman defiantly stared down this creatures in a manner that reminded Loki vaguely of Sif.

 

Should he let her die? Thor was be devastated no doubt. His mortal would break, and hopefully lose the child she carried, leaving him the only heir to the throne. Then he would only need to eliminate Thor and then Asgard would be his to rule.

 

On the other hand, should he bring her back? Jane Foster would no doubt think to lavish him in gifts for thanks. Thor would release him from his unjust imprisonment. Asgard would relax and be less wary of him. Hmm, decisions decisions. 

 

When a black arrow, riddled with poison, flew towards the mortal Loki knew what he had to do.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Was she dead? Darcy shut her eyes as blinding lights surrounding her. 

 

“Oh my god, Darcy!” Someone launched themselves at Darcy and tightly wound their arms around her.

 

The pain in her abdomen and pelvis, and the crushing of her ribs told her that no, she wasn’t dead.

 

“Darcy you’re alright!” Someone sobbed to her right. Was that Jane?

 

“Jane?” She croaked out. Darcy cracked open her eyes and to her amazement she wasn’t in the Anduin river but in the Bifrost room.

 

Jane just sobbed into Darcy’s chest repeating phrases like, “I’m so sorry!” and “It’s my fault!” and “I should have never sent you!”

 

Darcy didn’t care about that though. She looked around the room and only she and Jane occupied the room. Someone was missing. Where was her son?

 

“Jane, where is my son?” Heart hammering in her chest, she shoved Jane away. The river hadn’t carried him that far, the Bifrost should have caught him too.

 

“What son?” Jane looked confused and she wiped at her tear stained face. She watched as her friend panickedly glance about the room. The Asgardian Queen recoiled as Darcy grabbed at her shoulders.

 

“I have a son!” She roughly shook her old friend’s shoulders and would have continued it had it not been for the King. The blond thunder Asgardian lifted the Greenwood Queen away from his beloved. Darcy looked into Thor’s eyes and saw the same blue that she saw in her own husband. The same blue that her son might have.

 

Overwhelmed by the day’s events, giving birth, running for her life, being separated from her family, Darcy began to weakling beat her fists against the Thunder God’s chest. Thor was immovable and took the feebly attacks with a shared concerned look with his wife.

 

“Take me back! Take me back!” Darcy’s wailed in Sindarin. She was heard throughout in the Palace.   
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
“Search for survivors!” Thranduil ordered to the uninjured guards who insisted on following him. The others, for only few lives were lost, were still at the camp tending to the injured. Thranduil had frantically cut down yrch, desperately trying to get to his pregnant wife only to see her vanish in a mysterious light. 

 

The Elven King felt as though someone had shoved a burning coal in his chest. Was it his fate to lose his family to the evil? Why did Eru Iluvatar allow such suffering to occur? Why did he allow his wife and son to die?

 

In his grief, Thranduil’s eyes sought out the last place his wife was seen in. The Anduin. 

 

A bruised and broken flower crown, one that Darcy snickered whenever she wore it, floated by the shore. Thranduil, not feeling the cold bite of the river, fell to his knees and carefully brought the crown to his chest. Was this all he had to remember his wife by? A mere circlet of delicate flowers that would soon die? A mockingly cruel reminder of his own wife’s mortality?

 

A loud, piercing wailing from the middle of the river interrupted Thranduil’s musings. He turned his head and dropped Darcy’s flower crown in shock. That was the cry of a babe! The Great Elven King felt an airy fluttering in his chest but ruthlessly crushed it down. Why have hope?

 

Nonetheless, Thranduil waded deep in the river to reach the innocuous basket that held the source of the crying. He ignored the shouting from his people and pulled the basket to him.

 

His thick brows raised in surprise and relief when he opened the basket. For in it was his son! The only physical reminder of Darcy! The son borne from the love between a mortal and an elf.

 

The babe’s eyes were closed, and very little tufts of hair were sticking out. He was wrapped in Darcy’s green cloak and her royal broach laid right above the baby’s breast. Thranduil, still in the river, went to wipe away the birthing blood off of his son’s face with his thumb. The babe’s nose scrunched up as he whimpered. The baby opened his mouth when Thranduil’s thumb, trying to suckle from it.

 

“No, my ion nin, you cannot drink milk from there.” There was a lump in Thranduil’s throat making his otherwise smooth voice shaky. That lump only grew as his son begin to cry again, hungry and cold.

 

“Goheno nin, the one who could feed you is gone from us forever.”

 

The blond elf started to return to the shore with the little basket in tow. With his feet on dry land again, Thranduil crouched down and removed his son from the basket. Reverently cradling him, Thranduil ordered his guards to make haste back to Greenwood.

 

When Lasseth threw herself on the earth begging for forgiveness for her failure, Thranduil did not even turn to give her the tongue lashing she deserved. 

 

And so with a hardening heart and babe in his arms, Thranduil and his people returned to the Greenwood.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“She hasn’t eaten!”

 

“I heard she ran away and had to be dragged like a wild animal back to the Queen.”

 

“What an ungrateful midgardian.”

 

“Wasn’t she the lover of Thor? Imagine how hurt the Queen must be at seeing her back in court.”

 

“I heard it was the other way around.”

 

Such were the barbed words aimed at Darcy Lewis, handmaiden of Queen Jane. At one point, during the days when her grief was fresh, those words greatly hurt Darcy. At one point Darcy would have cared.

 

Nowadays, she let them roll off her back like a duck and water. Greenwood had hardened and softened the brunette in ways that still shocked both her friends and herself. Darcy was a changed woman. 

 

“You are back again.” A deceptively young Asgardian commented as she played the harp. This woman watched as Darcy sat at the base of her tree, not even glancing at the apples that temptingly hung close by.

 

“Does it bother you?” Darcy asked. She set down the bundle that she had and handed the woman food from the feast that she snuck out of. Given the fact she had only been back a few weeks, Darcy wasn’t ready to come to terms with what she lost. No feast was going to change her moods.

 

“Nay, Darcy of Midgard. You seek the tranquility of my garden. How can I deny peace to those that need it?” The woman mildly shot back. She tossed her braided hair back haughtily. She did frown when the mortal bitterly snorted.

 

“The peace I seek can’t exactly be found in our dimension, Idunn.” Darcy sighed, and inwardly gave herself a mentally shaking. She has got to stop sighing like some damsel out of a bodice ripper. 

 

“Ah, you speak of the place that held you hostage?” Idunn remembered those 3 weeks of chaos. Queen Jane had been-what’s the word?- flipping her shit and had demanded a search party to be formed. King Thor All-Father had happily complied even going as far as to contact the Midgardians for help. Of course, the royal rules even released Loki Silvertongue for him.

 

“Do I look like someone who would be kidnapped? Let alone held hostage?” Darcy crossed her arms. Seriously though, she had survived New Mexico, Tromso, London and lots of other things. It was kinda laughable and sorta sad that Jane and Thor thought so little of her. Did she give off that weak helpless vibe?

 

Idunn shook her head. Strands of golden hair was released from her braid.

 

“Anyone who can defeat Thor is not someone to mess with.” 

 

“To be fair, Thor didn’t have powers at that time.” Darcy couldn’t help but point out. Geez, that tale was still being spread around? Doesn’t really shed a positive light on her space bro.

 

Idunn opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted. A soft feminine voice echoed inside the Garden of Idunn.

 

“You really have changed. Before the whole trip, you used to brag about tazing Thor.” Jane, in all her Queenly regala, waved off Idunn’s attempt at curtsying and sat crossed legged. She looked, at least to Darcy, the same, which tripped Darcy a bit considering she was gone for five years and not the three weeks everyone thought.

 

“I learn some things in Greenwood.” Darcy shrugged her shoulders.

 

“And had a son?” Jane asked with disbelief. After all it was just as trippy for her. Apparently Darcy got married and had a son in 3 weeks. Even for Jane that was weird. But the Asgardian healers and Helen Cho confirmed it. Not to mention Darcy had those dreaded stretch marks.

 

“And had a son.” Darcy said wistfully.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
“Legolas? Legolas where are you?” Thranduil playfully called out. The elven king was fully aware that his little ion nin was hiding behind a particularly thin apple tree. And if that did not give him away, the giggling did.

 

“Hmm! I cannot find my little ion nin. He must not be here!” Thranduil smiled and turned on his heel to walk back into the palace. His elven ears picked up the scuttering of his child’s bare feet.

 

“Ada! Ada, I am here!” A little cherubic blond elf cried out. His elfling braids flew up as Legolas, a mere 10 years old, ran to his father.

 

Thranduil wiped his smile off and put on a surprised look.

 

“Ai Elebereth! You have great skills to have hidden yourself from me.” Thranduil’s heart thumped painfully when he saw his son’s toothy grin. The elfling’s mannerisms were similar enough to Darcy’s that it took Thranduil’s breathe away.

 

The taller of the elves walked hand in hand with his little greenleaf outside the garden when he was stopped by Legolas’ insistent tugging. The king looked down with a puzzled look.

 

“Greenleaf?”

 

“Ada, what’s that?” Legolas pointed to a hidden statue that seemed to wrapped in vines. The elfling’s curiosity was piqued. Who is that supposed to be? He hadn’t seen that before. Legolas released his grip on his father’s hand and moved towards the statue. It was a woman. She wasn’t as tall as the elleths in Greenwood. Just who was this woman?

 

Entranced by this statue, Legolas moved to touch it but was halted by his father.

 

“That’s your naneth, Legolas.” Ada’s voice sounded funny. Like he was trying to speak but still had water in his mouth. Legolas was sure to bring that up later but naneth! He hadn’t ever seen anything about his naneth! The blond elfing widened his eyes and tried to memorize all the little details of this statue. After all, ada never spoke of naneth! 

 

“She is beautiful!” Legolas breathed out. 

 

“Aye, she is.” Thranduil agreed solemnly. The king’s hand rose in the air as if to touch the face but closed his fist and brought back to his side.

 

“Come, the cook has made you a cake for your begetting day.”

 

The two elves left the gardens, but their minds were stuck to the statue for the rest of the day.


	7. Chapter 7

[Part 7]

 

THWAK THWAK

 

That sound ruined the silent tranquility that Thranduil searched for as he entered his private garden. Fruit in hand, he sat down on a low bench that faced his beloved’s statue.

 

“Hello, my love.” Thranduil greeted in English to the statue. 

 

Aside from the rustling of the crisp leaves there was no sound.

 

In his heart of hearts, the blond king knew that he wasn’t really talking to his wife, but it did help ease his strain. Talking to a lifeless statue was better than falling to the waking dreams the Eldar fell prey to. As King of the Greenwoods, Thranduil could not afford it. Especially in the increasingly dark times.

 

With his greetings complete, Thranduil focused his attention on the lunch he nicked from the kitchens. As he popped a grape in mouth, the elven king tried to ignore the continued sounds of arrows hitting a target. He knew that the newest recruits were being instructed on how to shoot a bow.

 

THWAK THWAK SWOOSH

 

His eyes twitched as an arrow flew past him, nicking him in the ear, and embedded itself on the foot of Darcy’s statute. A lesser being would have flinched and reared back his head and therefore injured himself more severely. Still as the statue before him, Thranduil waited until the arrow stopped vibrating before turning his head to see the fool who clearly aimed the weapon the wrong way.

 

His gardens were not facing the targets that trainees were made to practice on. No, the targets faced northward. And a closer look at the shaft and fletchings showed exactly which trainee shot the arrow.

 

Rustling and the sound of feet hitting the ground reached Thranduil long before a group of gasping elflings trampled into his gardens with his ion nin leading.

 

“Ada!” His son gasped out, Legolas’s eyes were wildly darting around until they settled on his father’s ear. More particularly his bloodied ear. Unfortunately, the elf prince wasn’t the only one to notice.

 

However, sensing his son’s rising panic Thranduil rose from his seat and dusted off the seeds of his peeled fruits.

 

“Hello my son.” He greeted calmly. “I am uninjured, the rest of you are dismissed.” Thranduil added sternly when he saw the curious elflings look around his private gardens.

 

With the other trainees gone, Legolas closed the distance and reached out to his father. His bright blue eyes were intensely scrutinizing his father for many imagined injuries that his arrow caused.

 

“But you are hurt, ada.” Legolas stated guilty. He looked down when his father returned his starring. The young ellon cringed when he heard, rather felt, his father step towards him.

 

“Ion nin, tell me. What do your elf eyes see?” Thranduil softly asked his son. The dangerous edge in his voice was gone, but the command to obey forced his son to open his eyes.

 

“I see….” Legolas’s voice shook. Blood. So much blood trailing down his father’s head. Ai Elbereth! Why did he want to become an archer if he already caused damage to his beloved father and the relic of his mother?!

 

“You see?” Thranduil eyes softened. While part of him wanted to quickly reassure his son that no harm befell him, the hardened warrior king side of him wanted to show his son the results of his actions.

 

Legolas slowed his breathing, just like Captain Tauriel taught him to, and assessed his father. Smooth fair facial skin, thick brows. One ear, perfectly pointed and free of blood. Now the other side of his father’s head stood a bloodied ear.

 

Swallowing his grimace, Legolas forced himself to gaze at it. He forced himself to look past the dried blood and to look further. The inner part of the ear was undamaged which relieved Legolas. It was outer part, made of mostly skin, that had been cut. 

 

“You were not severely hurt, ada.” Legolas breathed out. 

 

“I was not.” Thranduil agreed, before adding, “However, you must practice carefully lest you harm an innocent. Those arrows must either stay in your quiver or they stay in the rotting corpses of yrch, and goblins.”

 

Thranduil walked to Darcy’s statue and knelt down to retrieve the arrow. With a swift yank, the arrow was lifted and Thranduil handed it to his son.

 

“Promise me you will be more careful with your weapons, Legolas.” Thranduil wryly said. Legolas tightly clutched the shaft on his arrow and gave a clipped nod.

 

“I promise, Adar.” Legolas swore. Thranduil did not blink as his son went down on one knee and swore his promise. 

 

Accepting his little oath, Thranduil dismissed his son from his gardens. No doubt had Darcy been here, she would have been snickering over the dramatics of elven kind.   
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Darcy yawned as she trudged to her room, mindfully slowing her pace so that the little Asgardian clutching at her skirts could tot beside her. The once queen of the woods had a wane smile on her as the little princess reminded her of what her son could possibly be like. Would her son struggle to walk on as Tora Thorsdottir did? Or would he be as graceful as his elf father? These were the thoughts that plagued Darcy as the two walked to her chambers.

 

When the two entered Darcy’s chambers, they were surprised to see Jane sitting with one leg thrown over the other. Darcy more so than Tora who let out a joyous squeal.

 

“My Queen.” Darcy curtsy and hide her smile when the toddler tried to do the same only to wobble and fall on her butt. She was about to lend her aid to the tearing up toddler but halted at Jane’s unspoken command.

 

Jane got off the floor, looking imposing as she did, and gestured for her daughter to get up. She ignored the cherubic hands and moist eyes.

 

“Tora, get up, my love.” Jane said sternly.

 

The toddler shook her head and held up her arms again. The golden haired child’s lips wobbled when Jane continued to stand and ignore her pleas to be held. 

 

“No, Tora, you must get up on your own.” Jane said. 

 

Darcy silently watched as the toddler struggled to stand on her two feet. She bit her lip as her own instincts bade her to help Tora warred with Jane’s command. Seriously why was Jane being so mean?

 

Lips jutting out, Tora’s eyes shone brightly, but when her mother remained unmoved, the little Asgardian pouted. She placed her hands on the floors, got on her knees and pushed up. Tora managed to stand but her arms pinwheeled as she swayed. Luckily her determination kept her upright.

 

“Good job, my love.” Jane warmly said when Tora threw a open mouthed grin her way. 

 

Thora wobbled before she walked to Jane and clutched at her dress. Chuckingly, Jane bent down and lifted her daughter onto her hips. Darcy was confused by this.

 

“Giving her a dose of tough love there, Jane?” Darcy had a puzzled look on her face. 

 

She grew even more puzzled when Jane sighed and sat down on Darcy’s bed. Tora snuggled into her mother’s chest.

 

“Jane?” Darcy’s tone was concerned.

 

The retired scientist had such a look of exhaustion on her face that immediately sent alarms through Darcy’s head. How had she not noticed it before? 

 

“The council has been on my back about not raising Tora in the Asgardian way.” Jane started. She looked down at Tora, then back up at Darcy. “And there’s been rumors that if I can’t raise Tora like a true Asgardian then I shouldn’t be fit to rule as Queen.”

 

“What? Are you serious? Not raising Tora in the Asgardian way? What the hell does that even mean?” Darcy asked, furious on Jane’s behalf.

 

The Asgardian council was one of the most fascinating things in Asgard to Darcy. Honestly, Jane can keep her special stars, the politics of Asgard are far more interesting than science or magic. An assembly of nobles who interacted with each other and ruled the certain sections of Asgard, while Thor ruled over all. And as Queen, Jane was able to take her place in the assembly. Normally Darcy would be very happy to see the assembly at work but them implying that Jane isn’t fucking fit to be Queen? That made Darcy see red.

 

“Do they want her to be a fucking viking? She’s only two years old. Do you know many two year old warriors? No! Cuz that would be insane. CPS would wage freaking war!” Darcy ranted.

 

“I know.” Jane said quietly. “But whether or not it’s right, most of the court seems to be swaying more in favor of removing me from my position.” 

 

“That’s some Game of Thrones bullshit right there.” Darcy rubbed at her temples and moved to sit next to Jane.

 

“It is.” Jane agreed. Removing her from power just because Tora wasn’t some ready made Valkyrie? Seemed a bit drastic and none of their business. A dark part in the recess in Darcy’s mind whispered that had she not been forcefully returned to Asgard, she would have most likely experienced the same thing. 

 

“And who exactly is the source of these rumors, Jane?” Darcy eyed her friend.

 

Jane shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. Her loose braid came undone, making Jane seem less like a Queen and more like the Astrophysicist she used to be.

 

“I don’t know.” Jane said.

 

“But you have a guess.” Darcy countered. There was no way Jane didn’t have a guess. Scientists always had some idea even if it isn’t the right one.

 

“I tried to figure out who had the most to gain if I was gone.” Jane’s eyes darkened as she remembered seeing a pair of gossiping maids, who hushed themselves once she came into view. A simple command was all it took for them to open their mouths.

 

Honestly, it didn’t take a scientist to figure out who it was. Aside from the unwedded women in court, there was only one person who could benefit from sowing discord in Jane. Darcy and Jane locked eyes. One in fury and the other in annoyance. Loki.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy isn't the only one facing politics :(

[Part 8]

Thranduil had expected the council meetings to proceed as usual. The same way they always have since becoming King of the Greenwood. Yet, as he looked into the faces of his older, and wiser counterparts a feeling of unease was set upon him. This feeling stayed with him as the meeting progressed through its course. 

Simply questions were asked, until they weren’t. Should they continue to import the Dorwinion wine? Yes. Should they offer aid to the Men of the North who were beginning to settle in areas around the forest? It is not the place of the Eldar to interfere with mankind. Not even if the unnatural pests that have begun to truly harass those north of Dol Guldur? Many broke out in murmurs and others averted their eyes unable to face their king. 

On and on Thranduil continued to asked questions in this manner. He looked into the behaviors of his council and found quite a few shifting with odd, restless tension. What is plaguing his people?

“Let us break our fast and continue our meeting on the morrow.” Thranduil said, rising from his seat gracefully. Many from the council bowed and walked out of the room save for a few.

As Thranduil’s servant Galion began to neatly pick up the used and soiled cups, one of the older members of the council caught the attention of Thranduil.

“My king,” She bowed. The elleth, though elf-maiden is not accurate for Gyril who is the oldest of the council and mated to the blacksmith, had not moved from her seat at the council’s table.

“Lady Gyril.” Thranduil lowered his head in greeting to the dark haired elleth. He eyed Gyril with curiosity. For what purpose did she stay when the others had already left to break their fast?

Thranduil’s lips twitched downwards as Gyril moved from her seat and looked out to the private garden below the council room. The garden that had once belonged to two generations of Queens of Greenwood the Great. A garden which held the statue of his beloved. His Darcy. All of his council knew of the sacred place and none but the king and the prince dared to enter or look upon the place. Yet, the elleth stared into garden with an open fascination that made Thranduil want to cover and hide his more valuable treasures.

“She was beautiful.” Gyril’s voice was light and airy. A direct contrast to her stern looking Noldo appearance.

“Yes,” Thranduil agreed as he stared down at the poor imitation of his wife. “She is beautiful.”  
Though the elvish artists of his kingdom created the statue in the very same likeness as his wife, they could not capture the essence that made Darcy Darcy.

Gyril turned to her king with a raised brow. “Is? You believe her to be alive?” 

The mortal Queen was attacked right after giving birth. By Eru, it was impossible for the mortal to survive that attack. Yes, there were no remains to be found, but that did not mean that Queen Darcy was still alive. Aside from that, should she still be alive, what mother would bare separation from their child? Why not come back to her home?

With such thoughts swirling in her mind, Gyril held her tongue lest she incur the wrath of the icy King.

While the elleth was musing on her king’s words, Thranduil had moved closer to the railings that encircled the open window. He spoke with his back to the elleth.

“Darcy is still alive, though I do not know where she is.” Thranduil’s voice was devoid of any tone. He did not want his emotions to be heard by one who does not share his heart. Nay, without his wife, Thranduil kept his emotions-like precious jewels- only to himself.

“Does she share the blood of the Numenoreans?” Gyril asked. The dark haired elleth knew she had to tread softly, for she had entered dangerous waters.

Gyril stifled her sigh of relief when Thranduil merely shot her a confused look.

“No. Darcy’s bloodline was that of a mortal.” Thranduil was certain of that. Even if Darcy claimed to be from another world where there were mysterious beings with powers unknown, she was still mortal. A precious mortal who, if the stories were true, followed a heroine to the ends of one world unto another.

“It’s unlikely that she is still alive after several centuries.” Gyril murmured quietly. The Noldo elleth was surprised when the king hummed in disagreement.

In his heart, Thranduil still felt that his wife was still alive. All rationality and logic aside, he could not shake the feeling that Darcy was still-what’s the term? alive and kicking.

“My king?” 

Thranduil did not expand on his humming. Instead he turned away from the garden’s and with arms behind his back he returned to his seat. With his hands preoccupied with an empty goblet, Thranduil narrowed his eyes at the Noldo elleth.

“Gyril, you are very curious about my wife.” Thranduil stated calmly. His eyes tracked the elleth’s movements as she gracefully took a sip from a stray goblet.

“Of course, how can I not be? She was the lone female to ever capture the attention of our King.” Gyril’s eyes slowly became hooded as she talked. An action that surely put a feeling of unease on Thranduil.

However rather than allow that feeling to control his actions, Thranduil merely stared at Gyril, he passively continued even when the elleth slightly shivered. Many had told him that his gaze was almost as severe as the Silver Lord of Lorien. The Greenwood King had to just continue looking at the Noldo, and wait.

“The council has been discussing several concerning issues.” Gyril began after a moment's pause. Before today’s meeting, the council had elected her to approach the King about this matter stating that she was most likely to appeal to Thranduil’s logic. Yet, as she regarded the icy King, Gyril felt the tendrils of regret and fear.

Thranduil titled his head, and deliberately widened his eyes. “Issues, my lady?” 

Gyril cleared her throat and desperately wished for something to fiddle with as she broached a dangerous topic.

“Issues in regards to the royal family, your Grace.” Ai Elebereth, that glare levelled at her was colder than the winds of the Grey Mountains. Had she been any color left in her, Gyril would have surely paled.

“Speak plainly, councilwoman.” Thranduil ordered. He was quickly growing tired of this discussion. 

“The council would ask of you to look for suitable elleths.” Gyril’s heart beated so violently that she feared it would launch itself out of her body.

Thranduil’s eyebrows lowered dangerously and he frowned. So severe he looked that Gyril subtly began to look for ways to exit the room without incurring further wrath.

“You wish for me to marry an elleth when my heart belongs to another?” Thranduil deduced monotonously. 

“Legolas is a child born of man and elf. Though he may have the appearance of an elf, he is not truly one of us. Though she was Queen, his mother was mortal.”

Not one of us. Though those words were not thrown out maliciously, they stung worse than any wound made by a yrch.Thranduil’s hands clenched tightly even as his face smoothed. The Elf king dared not make any expression.

 

“My son has not aged or withered away like a fragile flower. There are others who share the blood of both men and elves. Why must he be any different?” Thranduil countered, his tone flat. 

“You speak of Lord Elrond and the line of Luthien.” 

“Yes. I do.”

“Luthien’s line has the blood of the Maia and has a vow from the Valar that her blood line will never perish. You cannot say the same.” Gyril’s face was sombre and her own tone dark.

Thranduil’s lips parted just a fraction and for a brief moment he was tempted to toss the Noldor elleth out of his council room. How dare she say that he was lesser than the Peredhel? To whom did she think she was speaking too.

“What would having me marry once more accomplish?” 

“Dark times grow. Should you perish or your son take more after his mother in mortality, our land needs a leader.” Gyril thought of her own son whom was lost during an yrch raid. 

“Elves only marry once.” That was a sacred law passed down from the Valar and Eru.

“She was not an elf.” Gyril was unruffled as her king’s eyes flashed. The councilwoman did not move an inch even as Thranduil stood abruptly from his seat.

“Darcy was my love, despite her being mortal. I will not take another for wife.”

“This is not about love. It is about duty.”

“Do not speak to me of duty.” I did not fade for duty. I became King for duty. My son became a guard for duty. Thranduil glared at Gyril and did not move. His ice cold eyes flashed in warning, or as Darcy would say ‘fuck off’. Silence descended upon the two elves, yet Thranduil would not break it.

“Forgive me. my king.” Gyril bowed her head, her dark hair covering her eyes.

“You may leave.” Thranduil dismissed brusquely. The blond haired elf-king’s eyes followed the old elleth as she gathered her things and left.

“Some more wine, my king?” A voice quietly inquired from behind Thranduil. A familiar voice, his eyes widened. His son’s voice.

“Legolas.” Thranduil breathed out. How much had his son heard? What did he think?

The prince of Greenwood, nay Mirkwood as the mortals say, looked away from his father and said nothing. Unbeknownst to his father, Legolas had entered the council room with every intention of dragging his father out to the archery range for more practice. Needless to say, the young prince -for a mere 200 years is nothing to the undying- was a bit curious as to why the room wasn’t emptied. 

Thranduil’s concern for his son grew when he saw tears welling up in Legolas’ eyes. 

“Forgive me, ada.” Legolas’s grin is as feeble as the thumps of his heart. He doesn’t notice the tremble of his hands as he set down the pitcher of Dorwinion wine.

He does smell the grapes as they begin to stain the woods of the table. Legolas used the sleeves of his tunic to try and blot out the wine.

“Ion nin,” With his head bowed, Legolas startled when his father paused his frantic attempt at cleaning.

“I made a mess, ada. Galion should not be forced to tidy up my foolishness.” Legolas whispered.

There are words that the princeling cannot bring himself to say. They settle heavily in his stomach. He cannot bring himself to meet his father’s gaze.

“Do not heed Gyril’s words, my son.” Thranduil said firmly. The king watched as his son’s head snapped up.

His little leaf was so easy to read even at this age.Thranduil is still as he expected his son to dance around the subject the same way he did for punishments.

Legolas, for once, addressed the problem straight on.

“The counsel does not agree on decisions lightly.” Legolas pointed out. He gave into the urge to fiddle with his hair. A habit he unconsciously shared with his mother.

The counsel was merely advisors that offered well-meaning words of wisdom, they did not have the power to command Thranduil much to the chagrin of many. He chose which pieces of advise to use and when to use it. 

Seeing the crestfallen expression on his heir’s face, incited a deep rage within the golden haired Sindarin.  
“They do not.” Thranduil agreed. “But in this case, they are in the wrong. You are my son, my heir, and the Prince of Greenwood. No matter what they request, they cannot take away your birthright.”

Thranduil had already lost his wife, and queen. He will personally throw all the councilmen into the void of Morgoth before relinquishes his son’s claim because of his heritage.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, this was one of the most difficult pieces to write. I'm not even sure I like it but it's been sitting in my folders for over a year. Why do I love commas so much. Anyway ....here you go.

“Ada, it’s raining.” Legolas had said when he entered his father’s office. He returned from his patrol run, choosing to ignore the fact that he was silently followed by his father’s royal guards, had wished to greet his father. 

The trees of Greenwood had looked more vibrant as the rain gently caressed the leaves of the forest. The rain had renewed life making all evidence of evil disappear and the young prince wanted to share that experience with the King. The sun had made its presence known and the dew on the leaves glittered so prettily like the diamonds in his mother’s portrait.

After greeting the maids and servants with a dimpled grin and being stony face with the nobles who saw him, he had silently snuck into the room with the intent to surprise his father. Only to be surprised himself as his father was sound asleep. Face squished on the table and drool slightly coming out of the normally dignified King’s mouth. Clutched snugly to his chest was a bottle, Dorwinion no doubt, and a black box that was sturdier than cloth yet less than steel. Legolas seen Thranduil in this state a few times in his 200 years of life. He quietly closed the door, thus allowing none to bare witness Thranduil’s inhibited state.

“Ai, ada!” Legolas sighed as he tried to lift the slumbering elf to a long chair. He winced when his father’s head rolled back narrowly missing the corner of his desk. Thranduil’s face was peaceful after Legolas laid him down on the well used well loved cot in the corner.

“Ada, I shall return with a blanket.” Legolas promised before exiting the room. 

Had he stayed he would have borne witness to his father’s labored breathing and the torturous looks and a whispered word wrapped in a horrified tone.

“Darcy!”  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jane was sitting at a large oak desk, made by Thor as a present, sifting through large stacks of parchment as well as magical tomes.

“Um, Jane I know I graduated with a Political Science degree but this is way beyond my level of expertise.” Darcy gently massaged her throbbing temple.

Tora laid on the floor, unbefitting of a lady, and colored parchment with pencils Jane had requested last time Thor went to Earth. She was older now, no longer the toddling toddler who clutched at Darcy’s skirts when her mother was away. 

Darcy tried not to track her age as it only served as a reminder of the chasm of time and space that was ever growing with each day.

Jane looked up from her parchments, eyes serious. “I know that, but that’s more than what I have.”

“You have a doctorate, Jane.” Darcy protested. She frowned and shoved the large stack of papers away. 

“In Astrophysics, yeah.” Jane said. She squinted as she looked over the chicken scrawl that covered her reports. “Not that it helps against Loki’s plans, whatever they are.”

Tora piped up. “He’s a bad man, mama. Kick his ass.”

“Tora!” Jane gasped at the foul language.

“It’s true, mama.” Tora boredly replied. 

Darcy tried to stifle her snort when Jane leveled a glare at her. 

“Hey! That’s not my doing. Actually it might her Asgardian side that’s wants to fight it out instead of the sneaky sneaky political stuff.” Darcy raised her hands in defense. Tora nodded in agreement with her aunt’s words.

Jane sighed. “Would that I could. I’d fight him myself if it would solve all of our problems.” The Asgardian Queen shifted into a sitting position and ran a hand through her hair. She looked mentally exhausted from this ordeal. Not only was she dealing with Loki and his schemes for the throne, she was raising her daughter while Thor was off fighting wars, leaving her to deal with agitated Asgardian nobles. And Darcy. 

“And hey! You’re the one who majored in sneaky, sneaky political stuff.” Jane pointed out.

Darcy shrugged.

“He’s such bastard. Why did Thor release him in the first place?” Darcy asked, curious.

Jane stole a glance at her friend. She felt a stone lodged in her throat as Darcy slid off the bed to sit behind Tora and swiftly braid up the wild golden hair that the maids cannot tame. Jane wasn’t ignorant to the envious and melancholic looks Darcy sent her and Tora when she thought no one was looking. At times, she had wondered if she’d done the right thing bringing back her friend. If she had just let go of her friend, Loki wouldn’t have been freed. 

“He helped us find you.” Jane said quietly.

She inwardly flinched when she saw Darcy’s lips whiten and her face was waxen.

Sensing a rising tension between the two women, Tora quietly gathered her art supplies and swiftly left the room. 

“Oh.” Darcy said softly.

It was the first time in the many years since Darcy’s forceful return to Asgard that the subject was brought to light. And Jane had the urge to bury it away to never have to confront the consequences.

The Asgardian Queen unfortunately was friends with one who doesn’t shy away from confrontation.

“You should have left me alone rather than accepting his help.” Darcy said, tone bitter.

Her gaze was fixated on the wall behind Jane’s head. One that held a painting that Darcy had commissioned. One that Darcy would spend hours staring at when she wasn’t in the Gardens of Idunn, or helping Jane with courtly matters. 

Jane felt the gaze of the painted man burn in her back in conjunction with Darcy’s own empty stare. Her own emotions swelled in her chest.

“You’re a dear friend. My friend. I couldn’t, I couldn’t leave you where ever it was. Because. If something had happened to you. It would have been because of me.” Jane said haltingly. 

Jane remembered the gut wrenching terror when Darcy had been engulfed in the Bifrost’s light and Heimdall’s confused gaze. She remembered Thor immediately going to Earth and enlisting the help of his old war mates to search for her. For weeks she waited to hear news-any news- of her friend. During that time she had a myriad of emotions. Fear that Darcy was hurt or dying, anger at who did this, and guilt. If Darcy hadn’t been her friend, hadn’t followed her to Asgard out of loyalty, she wouldn’t have been taken by a mysterious assailant. 

It was her pregnancy that forced Jane to stay behind on Asgard while the search spanned the Nine Realms. Which also allowed her access to the source of their problems.

“Jane.” Darcy started. She really wasn’t sure what she would say. The hurt and anger were still very strong but her love for her friend was as well.

Jane shook her head, brown strands flying around. “I don’t regret it. Not if it means you’re safe here.”

She squeezed her eyes shut unable to face the angered reaction from her dearest friend. Nobles she could handle. Yet, a cruel word from those closest to her might shatter Jane.

Jane resists the urge to recoil when a soft hand laid on her shoulder. 

“But I’m not safe here.” Darcy said. “You’re not safe here. Tora’s not safe here.”

Darcy had to swallow the words she longed to snap at Jane. Nothing feels the same. Food has lost it’s flavor. The summer breeze does nothing. Time is achingly slow. Things that brought me happiness merely brings me dulled amusement. How can you not regret what you’ve done? I have lost my husband and son. And instead tried to focus on the real threat. 

Jane nodded seriously, part of her grateful that Darcy did not rage at her. 

“Which is why we need to come up with a plan to deal with Loki.” Darcy agreed.

The brunettes groaned as they eyed the stacks of parchments. Things like taxes, trade agreements, storage of wares, etc.

A soft knocking on Darcy’s chamber doors, and she thanked the Valar that she was saved. She conveniently did not notice that she said that aloud. Jane did.

“Come in!” Darcy said loudly.

She helped Jane shuffle the papers into a disorganized mess that only she could decipher.

A woman enters the room with a basket. An impossibly beautiful woman. Dark hair that falls to her feet. Pale skin that seems to glimmer in the light. And eyes that were grey. Something about her felt both familiar and foreign. A strange conundrum that Darcy has never faced before.

She gracefully bowed to Jane, who nodded at her, but kept those serious grey eyes focused on Darcy. It was silent in the room as the unknown woman continued to gazed upon Darcy as if staring upon a new world wonder. 

Frankly, it make Darcy’s skin crawl. Those eyes seemed to go on like an endless chasm.

Jane clearly didn’t like the look either as she pointedly coughed. Immediately the woman’s eyes swiveled to the Midgardian Asgardian Queen. Like predators neither blinked but Jane was the first to open her mouth.

“What brings you to my advisor’s chambers, Luthien?” Jane asked. 

Darcy couldn’t help but notice the miniscule tightening of Jane’s jaw. A sign of irritation that Jane wasn’t able to train herself out of when she became Queen, much to Sif’s dismay. Just who was this woman to produce a negative reaction from the relatively calm Queen Dr. Jane Foster-Odinson? And why did Darcy’s heart stir at the mention of the woman’s name?

Luthien rose from her bow, back straight and chin up. Though she was dressed in a servant’s garb, Luthien held the same regal manners as Jane or even Darcy (when she was in the nostalgic mindset).

“Lord Loki wishes to speak with you in regards to some dispute between a noblemen and the Midgardian healer HelenCho.” Her voice was smooth and tinkled like bells.

A huff of irritation escaped Jane’s lips. Whether it was dealing with Loki or Asgard’s inability to be peaceful for more than a day, or Luthien that caused it was unknown to Darcy.

“And why would Loki be contacted if something was happened to Dr. Cho when she is under my protection?” Jane asked herself. She scowled as various possible schemes flitted through her mind. With Loki, one hardly knew what they were dealing with.

Luthien delicately shrugged and so did Darcy. Both women turned to resume their staring at each other.

Jane shook her head and heaved herself off the monomonth bed to her feet. “Best I deal with him and check up on Cho before something happens.” The stress was strongly evident in her tone that Darcy paused her staring contest reluctantly. 

“I can check on Helen while you deal with Prince Complex.” Darcy added dramatically. “Don’t tell him I said that.” She aimed at Luthien who simply smiled at her.

“My lady, you have my word that I shall not utter a word to the man.” 

“So fucking weird.” Jane whispered as she slipped on her shoes.

Darcy didn’t have the heart to tell her that Luthien’s smile grew despite being several feet away. 

Luthien does not move an inch when Jane walked towards her. She was stock still and Jane has to maneuver herself in an awkward way to get to the door of Darcy’s chambers.

“Um, is there anything you need?” Darcy asked after it became apparent that Luthien wasn’t going to leave. 

The strange woman smiled and shook her head. “I simply wish to see the woman my husband has spoken about.”

Alarm coursed through Darcy’s veins. “Your husband?” Since arriving all those years ago, she has not had any serious interactions with those outside the House of Odinson. Was this woman looking to start trouble? Then anger began to bubble at the insinuation. She was married for Christ’s sake! Darcy would sooner walk into the void with Morgoth than break her vows to her husband.

“Yes, Beren has many amusing anecdotes regarding you and the Princess.” The Greenwood Queen relaxed at those words. Beren she knew as Tora’s private tutor. In what, Darcy could not remember.

The one-handed man was very patient with Tora and proud of his battle prowess. Yes he would get irritated when Darcy would snatch the girl away for Earth-time stuff but overall the man was tolerable.

So, in theory, Luthien should be just as tolerable. 

“Yeah, Beren’s a cool guy when he’s not bossing Tora-” Darcy trailed off. 

Wait. Beren? Beren? Beren and Luthien?

Darcy’s eyes widened and the beginnings of her headache faded away as she stared at the woman with the startling revelation.

“Beren?” Darcy whispered confused and with something akin to hope rising up.

Luthien raised a perfectly sculpted brow and hints of a smile. 

“That is indeed his name.” Luthien’s tone was gentle.

Darcy slowly walked closer to the woman. She lifted a hand to Luthien’s face and hesitated. What if this was simply a coincidence? What if this was just her mind making mountains out of anthills? What were the odds?

Luthien appeared to stop breathing altogether but made no move to stop Darcy from placing thick, dark strands behind her ear.

A pale, pointed ear.

“You’re-you’re her!” Darcy whispered in awe and shock.

There standing before her was Luthien Tinuviel. Daughter of Melian and King Thingol. The only known immortal to give up her immortality for a mortal man. Named Beren. A person whose story was well known to Darcy because of her pregnancy. A story that gave Darcy hope for her son who was lost to her. That he had taken after his father in terms of lifespan rather than hers.

The legend nodded and tucked more hair behind her ear. “I am.”

Darcy was baffled and excited because this woman, elleth-her mind gleefully corrected-, was her link to Middle Earth. 

“How? How are you here? What? I don’t.” Darcy immediately babbled unable to control herself. She bounced on the balls of her feet in excitement.

The mortal woman couldn’t keep the grin off her face and neither could Luthien. How strange to meet someone from the tales Thranduil used to whisper to her during the darkest of nights.

Thranduil. Darcy’s grin was wobbling. What would he say if he saw the loveliest elleth to walk the earth?

Luthien spoke before Darcy’s mind could go into a depressing place that was regularly frequented since coming back.

“Perhaps we could speak as we walked to HelenCho?” Luthien’s demeanour was kinder than when she first arrived to the room.

Darcy fluttered her eyes and nodded spastically. “Y-yeah.”

And off the two women went.  
\-------------  
Helen Cho, world renown geneticist, suspiciously eyed the guard that was ‘escorting’ her back to her room.

A quick look showed no signs of Vision or Jane to explain why she was removed from her rousing discussion of healing technology with Ioreth, the head healer. Really, rearranging molecular particles and encouraging them to move faster to promote healing was the most interesting thing she heard all day!

“You are hurting me.” She tried to wrench her arm out of the tightening grip. She left out a pained whimper when the man rolled his eyes and walked faster forcing her to run lest her should be ripped out of its socket. The guard cared not for her sounds of pain. 

“She said you are hurting her.” An aggressive sounding woman said.

The guard paused for a second, unconsciously loosening his grip on the tiny, Midgardian Doctor allowing Helen to snatch back her wrist.

She rubbed at it furiously trying to bring back circulation.

“I have orders to escort HelenCho back to her rooms to await judgement.” The guard’s lips were curled and he sneered at the women.

One, he recognized to be the foreigner’s wife. Luthien, an upstart servant that looked down on Asgardians.

She seemed to recognize him if her glare was any indication.

“Under whose authority? And for what crimes.” The other woman spoke.

She had pulled HelenCho into her grasp checking for obvious wounds or signs of bleeding. After fussing, she stood tall leaving Helen behind her for protection.

“Under Prince Loki’s authority and her crimes shall be proclaimed for all to hear during her trial. So step aside woman.” The guard made to grab HelenCho and continue his orders. Loki had promised to reward him generously.

He had no desire to deal with these annoying pests.

“Helen Cho is under the protection of Queen Jane, so any disciplinary actions against her shall come from the Queen herself or her delegates. So, sir, leave us now or I shall be forced to deal with you myself.” Darcy said with firmness. 

Helen felt surprise as she watched Darcy stand tall and proud before the guard. Was this the same girl who used to ask her to watch K-dramas with her? The doctor felt compelled to interfere if the guard so much as breathed in Darcy’s direction. Only a pale hand prevented her from leaving her spot.

“You are a guest here, Lady HelenCho. Let your hosts protect you.” Luthien breathed out.

The doctor wasn’t content to simply stay out of the way while another placed themselves in harm’s way. Helen tried again to move, unfortunately attracting the attention of the guard. 

“How quickly you Midgardians,” He spat out the word, “hide behind another skirts. Are you so cowardly that you cannot face your judgment?”

Helen’s mouth tightened and she retorted before either Darcy or Luthien could speak.

“When I know what the charges that are laid against me are, then I will face judgement. Otherwise you can leave.” Fucking asshole.

The women moved closer to each other when the guard made an angered noise. 

“You insolent insignificant worm!”

“My dear ladies, what seems to be the problem.” An amused voice chuckled.

Darcy felt herself go ramrod straight. As did Helen.

Luthien frowned.

“Lord Loki.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hated writing this but it was needed.

Loki.

The cunning bastard smirked at the trio of women. Dressed in all the finery befitting a noble of his station. His status apparent in his posture and appearance.

"What is the matter my lady?" He repeated the question. False concern dripped from every word.

He aimed it at Darcy who scowled at him, without regard to her own title. It amused him. Apparently all female Midgardians thought themselves above him. Asgardians certainly knew better. They knew when they were outpowered.

Here in Asgard she was not Queen Darcy of the Greenwood-the servants were quite eager to gossip about her delusions-, but Lady Darcy of Earth. A servant of Thor's mortal annoyance.

She squared her shoulders and leveled an irritated look at him. "This guard," she sneered at the man, "had the audacity to try take Helen without orders from Queen Jane."

The guard opened his mouth to speak but Loki held a pale hand up. A dark satisfaction ran through Darcy's chest when she heard the audible clink of the man's mouth shutting. Only to feel outrage at the following words.

"HELENCHO is to escorted away under /my/ orders. A most loyal man following orders from his superiors." Loki drawled. 

The guard smirked. 

Loki motioned with his head and the guard moved forward. Roughly shoving-a petty revenge perhaps- Luthien aside, the guard grabbed Helen. The doctor feebly struggled against the full strength of a rested man. Having used all of her energy fighting back early, she is pulled away from the safety of the other women.

"I deserve to you know I'm being held against my will." Helen had snapped at the Prince.

Darcy mouthed to Luthien, 'Go get help.' Knowing instinctively that she would find Jane. The immortal elleth nodded and quickly walked away.   
She did not hear the elleth mutter a quick prayer.

Loki saw it all.

Loki rudely pointed a finger in Helen's direction. "/You/ deserve nothing. With my brother-the king, I might add- away fighting nobly, I am ruler of Asgard. I do not answer to insignificant beings."

Darcy gasped, her face red in anger. "Jane's Queen, you treacherous snake."

"Insignificant? How dare you! I have changed the course of medicine here and on Earth." 

Loki sneered at both of them. 

"You manipulated an infinity stone for your benefit thus focusing Thanos on our realms. You're responsible for the war that draws our king away."

Helen was white with anger. "Vision was created because I was under the influence of another being!"

"How quickly you deny the very works you swore 'changed the course of medicine." Loki chuckled.

Helen sputtered.

Darcy was quick to lash out, tongue as cutting as it used to be. "Prince Loki, the Tesseract dictated your actions did it not?"

"I was still thrown into prison for it, Lady. I paid for my actions with time and solitude. Until my merciful brother released me." His tone was bitter.

Helen jumped in. "You were thrown into jail for the your actions prior to the Tesseract."

The loud crack following her words echoed in the hallways.

Darcy crouched down, her hand a cool balm to Helen’s rapidly darkening cheek. Part of her hated not facing Loki, but her friend required her more. 

The Jotun towered over them. He enjoyed seeing them cower before him. As they should. But was now was not the time to savor this, he had things to do before Thor’s whore realizes what’s occurring.

She was ashamed to flinch and in doing cause Helen to hiss in pain.

“As for Jane, with her inability to conform to our ways, the nobles have lost faith in her ruling. Until my honored brother returns, I shall assume the position of King to further his reign.” His words were smooth.

Both brunette’s stared at him in horror. 

“When was this sanctioned? And how did the majority favor you, a warmonger, over Jane.” Darcy asked.

The beatific joy in his expression caused nausea to move through her.

“When Thor left.” Loki had replied.

He clapped his hands and the guard who had been observing came closer.

“I am terribly bored with this conversation, be a lad and take HELENCHO. As for the lady Darcy, I shall escort her myself to greet our Queen.”

“Aye, your grace.” The guard had bowed slightly before pulling Helen out of Darcy’s grasp.

It was only Loki’s own steel strength that prevented Darcy from scratching out that man’s eyeball.

“Come now, Jane awaits the both of us.”

Helen was taken in a separate direction, one that Darcy could not track for the searing pain in her own arm.

She failed in protecting her.


	11. Chapter 11

Ever since that night that Legolas had unknowingly witnessed his father’s dream mutterings, he began to see things in his own dreams. Like a dam broken visions began to haunt him.

They had always began in the same room. An ostentatious, golden throne with guards in golden armor surrounding it sat in the middle.

Upon the throne was a sprawled legged man. His inky dark hair was a stark contrast to the brightness of everything else. A scepter in hand, a manic grin covered the man’s long face. He seemed to take pleasure in the pleading before him.

Kneeling on the cold marbled floors of Asgard-he does not know how he knows this place- weeping was a female. She lacked the pointed ears so he had assumed she was a mortal Edain.

A child, fair haired and plump, clutched at the torn skirts of her mother. There was no wailing from her, perhaps too young to understand what was happening. Blue eyes darted from soldier to soldier looking for aid for her mother.

But none would come to her.

“You can’t do this! Please!” A dark haired mortal cried as she was separated from her babe.

The language is foreign, the tones and inflections strange to him. But the fear and terror could be felt without words.

“The only good that came from the Midgardian wench was the child.” Here the man grimaced.  
“Thor’s heir.”

“Mama!” The child scrambled after her mother. Unsteady but hurried feet could not compete with the fully grown legs of men as tall as trees.

The mother used what energy she had to fight but a thin waif like her could do nothing. Like a cornered animal, she had shrieked and kicked and clawed at the men’s armor.

It had earned her a heavy smack for her troubles. 

The child screamed and finally the man on the throne took action. He reached down and-

“Prince Legolas.” A bewildered prince focuses on the scowling captain before him.

He glances around him and sees an armed battalion astride horses. Several of them cease their whispering while others hide their amused smiles. His own horse shifts impassionately beneath his own thighs. And then he remembers what he was to do before the waking dream took ahold of him. 

Red haired and furious, she glares back. Any words she wishes to unleash upon him are held back due to his noble bearings. 

“Prince Legolas,” The tone is icy, “are you ready for patrol?”

Tauriel will never understand how she was entrusted to care for an absent minded prince. A blood oath done through guilt and failure has forced her into servitude similar to that of a nursemaid.

She was a warrior. 

The prince offers a feeble apology before following the aloof captain into the woods. 

\--  
Unfortunately for the Prince, his waking dreams were not dreams at all.

In the dungeons, three women separated by magical barriers. The barriers, in a rare act of kindness from the acting King Loki protected them from the degenerates that called the prison of Asgard home. Though, if one had asked any of the women, they would have not called it a kindness at all.

“I had more room in my closet in the Greenwoods. Thranduil would have never kept a space this small.” Darcy feels the painful hum of magic under her palms.

By now the women learned that touching the barrier for long periods of time ended in shocks and a state of painfully induced unconsciousness. The effects of confinement weigh on each differently.

“When I get out of here, I’m so abolishing this fucking prison.” Jane angrily swore. 

The weeping and wailing and general freaking out lasted for hours before maternal rage took over. None of them knew of what fate befell to Tora. But a better fate than the unknown that they themselves faced.

“Thor really screwed the pooch by keeping this. It’s been proven to be fallible before.” Helen sat crossed legged. Her eyes were closed.

A guard had mistaken her stillness for sleeping and earned a gouges in his face for his troubles.

Each woman had their food thrown into the cells rather than handed on a silver coated tray. 

Darcy had whooped at the disgruntled faces of the sneering guards. The more time she spent locked in a space smaller than the space she shared with Jane, the more she grew wild. In here there was no need to keep up appearances as Jane’s confidant or Tora’s lady maid. Here she could release all that has been locked away.

Some days she spoke in Sindarin or Silvan to keep the little fragments of home to herself.

“You think someone will come and get us? The Avengers maybe?” 

“Last I heard most of them were dealing with a registry act. Not to mention this was an internal matter. The moment we followed Jane we became citizens of Asgard not Earth.” Darcy struggled to speak in English. 

“You may have,” Helen pointed out, “but I came to study Asgardian medicine. I should be covered under Earth laws.”

“Girls, doesn’t matter if we belong here or not. I have no intention of staying here while that asshole has my daughter. Even if the court falls for his manipulations, I sure as hell won’t leave Tora to him.” Jane’s fist tightens in her declaration. 

“Well then do you propose a plan then?”  
\--

“It seems, my love, that I am not the only one who has been seeing you.” Thranduil kneels at the feet of the statue made for his wife.

As the centuries has gone by the statue as eroded, leaving behind only the faded features of his wife. The flowers and small animals that were carved delicately no longer exist. 

Like the paintings that hang in his room and office, they do no justice to her fleeting beauty. Pale imitations of the real thing. 

It lacks the any liveliness of her.

Thranduil knows this and still he speaks as if she stood before him.

“Tauriel, your maid’s daughter, reports that he has been having more and more waking dreams. I am loathe to lock him in his room like an errant child but his safety is compromised. He does not speak of his dreams but I know they are of you.”

Like his father, he paid regular visits to a missing woman.

Now he avoids the general areas. A sad lonely prince. Forced to see things and rendered helpless to watch.

“Why do you haunt him, Darcy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh, soooooo I know it's been like a long time


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have two more chapters then this story will finally be finished after so long. Also what are commas and random capitalization

Thranduil feels the soft autumn winds flow through the garden. The swaying branches of the towering trees blocked out the drifting clouds that lazily occupied the sky casting a dark shadow over Darcy’s garden. 

The birds that once sung animatedly in her garden are south of his realm leaving it silent as a tomb.

It matched his sentiments exactly. 

The statue does not answer his questions but Thranduil does not care. Unlike its mortal counterpart, it lacks the fire to retort to him.

Yet the statue of his Darcy is here to face his anguish and ire. 

The fear for his son overcomes all reason. His kingly composure can safely fall apart in this private garden of his. No servants to trail him. No nobles inquiring when he will take a noble elleth as his mate. No son looking for the person who created a void in his fea. 

“His mind is split between your world and mine. Were you here it would ease his spirits. Why do you still stay away?” A tight ball of emotion rubs against his chest.

He glares at the imperfect memorialization of his wife. Where eyes with smooth skin gazed at him adoringly, there is stone, jagged from the stray arrows his son released during training.

Words spill from him, things he has long to say in the centuries since his wife has vanished beyond his world.

His tone once calm and placid when speaking to the memorial of his face goes icy as he speaks.

“How could you leave your child? Our son? There is not a day that goes by where I look upon our son and see an ellon. I fear his mortal side. Will he be taken from me as well? You are a cruel woman to have let me bear this fate alone.”

Thranduil’s long golden hair is askew and his chest heaves. His mouth shuts with an audible click as he struggles to regain his breath. This drained him of his energy far more than any battle of Dagorlad ever did.

He lightly touches the damaged portion of his face wincing at the tight skin. His glamour fell during his...talk.

The King is grateful that few of his people venture far enough into his domain to hear his screaming. As unseemly it is, there a lightness in his chest. A burden that is not as daunting to carry as before.

He runs a hand through his hair. Something that Darcy used to yearn for while touching her own hair.

“The land has changed, ellon and elleth grow. Yet, I still wait for you, Darcy. Until Morgoth rips himself of the Void I shall wait for you.” He caresses the cheek of the statue and leaves.

The Elf king does not address the single fear that lays unvoiced. The fear that Darcy cannot cross to Arda.

The garden is undisturbed once more…..except for the bright apple that lays at the sandaled feet of the Queen Darcy.  
\----------  
The moment that Prince Loki ordered the imprisonment of Queen Jane and the Midgardian women, Luthien knew she had to do something.

She rarely involved herself in the politics of the Aesir. Beren thought it prudent to stay out of the way of the royals. Nothing good could come of it, he had insisted when they had first arrived in the so called “Realm Eternal”.

Of course, Luthien knew her beloved husband was full of horseshite as he immediately grew close to the young princes of Odin. 

They had been drawn to his one hand and the interesting stories of Arda. Things that no other Aesir could boast of. It helped that he had saved one of the boys when a misshapen horse ride nearly crushed the skull of the dark haired son. 

Neither boy would leave him alone eventually drawing the attention of the All-Father to the immigrant couple. 

Luthien had given him a look of playful annoyance when Beren had announced that he was to be a tutor to the young princes. Yet she went along with it as she was curious to see how a servant lived and how it compared to the life she had lived as a Princess of Doriath or her second life as a mortal in Tol Galen.

Asgard was an opulent place full of arrogant warriors but it is a beautiful place.

Beren’s close relationship with the princes allowed Luthien to form her own relations in the world. 

It saddened her heart that on this world there was deep seated jealousy that grew hateful when gazes landed on her or her husband. Envious eyes would watch when Beren escorted the princes to their weapons practice. Or critical women would sneer as she dined with the young Queen when Odin was away. Frigga who enjoyed having a friendly face that did not carry a hidden agenda deep in her heart.

For centuries, this was the way in which they live until the boys had outgrown their tutor.

“You should have disciplined the young prince more.” Luthien had mildly admonished as she ransacked their room.

It was a modest abode that brought much needed intimacy to the couple after a long day in the realm.

“Loki has received enough punishment to last a lifetime or more. What he needed was the bosom of Nienna.” Beren stated as he wrestled a foot into a boot with only one hand.

“Needed, my dear Beren?”

Her grin was beaufic as she located the item.

Beren leaned away from the gleaming white dagger. It’s bright light, forged from a fallen star, pulsed warm light drowning out the shadows.

That dagger had been a companion since the days of Menegroth. 

“What he needs now matters not. There is an innocent child who is in harm's way due to his foolishness.” Beren rubbed his beard in thought.

Despite the urgency of their mission, Luthien could not help herself as she laid her eyes on her husband. His handsome face had aged well and the scar that graced his lip even more so. 

“Continue to stare at me in that manner, Tinuviel, and we shall not leave this chamber until the dawn.” Beren caressed the face of his Tinuviel as he finished dressing himself.

“Promises like that do not inspire fear in me. But alas we must gather one more ally before saving those mortals.” Luthien’s eyes closed and a satisfied smile appeared on her elven face.

“Does this not bring back fond memories?”  
\--  
The small cells that hold the women separately shimmer and hum golden magic. There is enough space to curl up on the floor and a bucket that magically empties in a corner. 

From the snippets that the women gather from the gossiping guards is that Loki’s reign is not as dramatically evil as they thought it would be.

It brings no joy to the rightful Asgardian Queen. Instead, the already thin woman wilts more. The clothes she was imprisoned with engulf her small frame. The shadows under her eyes grow longer and her neat hair is greasy. 

Darcy knows she and Helen do not look top quality either.

“They don’t love him.” Darcy tries to comforting Jane with these thoughts.

It had to be true. Silvertongue be damned, Loki did not have the sheer charismatic personality that drew in allies the way Thor did. He did not inspire people to achieve great feats. He ruled with manipulations and half truths.

Helen hums in agreement.

“If that was true I’d be on the fucking throne with my daughter and not locked up like a criminal Darce.”

However with the xenophobia towards any they deemed inferior, Asgardians preferred he who was raised amongst them to the Midgardian born and raised Jane Foster.

There was pride at the swift way Tora was taking to combat. Like her warrior father, she did their world proud.

“She’s a baby!” Jane cries out in despair. 

Darcy couldn’t blame her. Her unnamed son may have been worlds away but she knew in her soul that she could trust her husband to care for him. 

Jane did not have that luxury. Instead her daughter was being instructed by a lyesmith traitor. 

“She’s safe unlike us, Jane. Loki’s not an idiot. He’s not going to risk his position by trying to get rid of her.” 

“Not yet.” Jane sluggishly covers her mouth and chokes back a sob. 

Darcy lays a hand on the mystical wall of her prison. The heat is unbearable on her skin. An enchantment to deter prisoners from leaning against the spelled walls. The more pressure placed on it the hotter it grew.

The smell of cooked meat lingered in the dungeons from fools who did not understand. The recycled arid air of no longer garnered a reaction from the women. 

The matters of Tora and Loki was what brought great distress.

Guards who stand at the entrance of the prison say nothing to antagonize the Queen. In the beginning days when Darcy, Jane and Helen left to rot they had jeered and snarled profanities. 

Thor had left Asgard with the finest warriors offered. What remained behind to guard the realm incase of attack was a mere shade. Now they placidly watch Jane’s emotionally deteriorate without a word being uttered. 

Some loyalty, Darcy sneered.Darcy tried to hold onto the hope that there would be some way to escape the prison but each day it diminished. 

“You gotta be strong, Janey. If you can’t be strong for yourself then you gotta be strong for your daughter. Crying won’t help her.” 

“Really, Darcy?” Jane’s laugh is mocking. “It’s rich that you talk about being strong when you basically withered away for years.”

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Jane has a small pang of regret at blurting that out but frankly she was passed her limits. She wanted someone to hurt like she did in that moment.

Helen grimaces and tries to interrupt the two. That conversation needed to take place but during an unknown sentence in the dungeons wasn't the place or time. Other prisoners were beginning to take interest, which only spelt bad things for them.

Darcy had reared back as if slapped. She pursed her lips and leaned against the magical barriers.

The pain gave her focus. Her hands were reddening under the heat of the barrier. She didn’t care.

“You really want to go there Jane? I was ripped away from my child! I had one fucking moment with him before I was brought back by-oh yes- Loki. The same man who has your child!”

“You’re my friend! I couldn't leave you in some unknown backwater planet!”

Darcy gestured angrily around. “Oh yeah, cuz Asgard is so advanced!” 

“Guys.” The prisoners shuffled amongst themselves and their voices suffered as a distraction for the guards. 

Two guards meant to watch an entire prison population. Ones that are easily disposed of when coming from the opposite direction. Their throats are sliced through like succulent meat over a fire pit.

“So advanced! In fact they’re so advanced they staged a coup leaving you like Marie Antoinette! Thanks for bringing me back to such an amazing world Jane!”

Infuriated Darcy emits a guttural cry as she roughly slams her hands against the barrier and watches as the magic ripples all around her.

Jane straightens up from the ground in an uncoordinated manner. Her sallow skin shines in the ethereal glow of the barrier. She watches in dazed amazement as the barrier seems to bulge outwards before imploding in on itself.

Helen gapes as all the cells repeat the process that wreaked havoc on the Asgardian Queen’s prison.

The women couldn’t even enjoy their moment of freedom. For the only protection against the dangerous beings locked only a few feet away were now unleashed.

“Fuck.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So close to the end

The ever noisy prison is eerily silent as the shimmering enchantment barriers slowly fall down. Prisoners that surrendered from the Dark Elf invasion eagerly watch as inch by inch the spell is undone. Some lick their lips and leer at the Midgardian women who realise one thing as they threw glances at each other.

They were fucked.

“This is honestly one of the worst days of my life and I was possessed by a rock.” Jane nervously inches as close as she can to the other women. Even with the barriers falling, it was still reigning taller than any of the women.

“Hmmm, it ranks in the top 10 but not the first.” Helen says, her lips whiten as she bites down. Thoughts race through her head but since fighting and magic weren’t her forte nothing helpful came out.

Despite the rather emotional episode that she and Jane shared, Darcy has to say that she agrees with her old boss. The odds that they get out unscathed are relatively slim. But Darcy still has to find a way out for her son.

Jane has to get to Tora and save her goddamn planet/realm thing.

Helen? Helen wants to go home.

“Any ideas, guys?”

“None that work in this environment.”

“I should have taken up Natasha on her lessons before coming here.”

There unison groans were the only verbal agreements the other women gave. Natasha had been utterly serious when she had offered but rather than take her up on it, they had chosen to trust in the skills of the Warrior Three and Thor as well as the protection that Jane’s new title would bring them.

Their noises weren’t loud enough to mask the thuds of bodies falling or the dying gasps of the guards as blood sprayed from their throats.

Like an angel of death, an illuminated woman stood over the guards, dagger gleaming red in one hand and the other carrying a sack. Her features were hard to see due to the light, elven light Darcy was sure of it. Only her dark, long hair was clear.

Luthien, dressed in tunics that blended well with the dark colored rooms, and hair braided back, visually matched the One-Handed Beren. Stern gazes with mouths twisted downwards, their eyes roam looking for something.

Or someones.

“There you are.” Luthien breathes out, tension leaving the battle ready elf and turning her back into the languid woman who primly stepped over the bodies of her fallen enemies.

Beren, secure in the knowledge that Luthien will tend to them, goes on to finish off the rest of the immediate threats in the prison. His body seemingly disappeared. Grunts and thuds are heard over the sounds of the prisoners begging the man to spar them.

“Luthien!” Darcy cries out happily. Helen and Jane echo her albeit not as enthused. Jane’s own issues unresolved with the woman.

The barrier is waist high now, but low enough that Darcy can lean over to tightly hug the elleth. The squeal that she emits when Luthien hauls her out of the prison cell is high pitched and delighted. Seems inhuman strength wasn’t limited to the males of their species thank the lord.

Darcy can’t help but beam at the legendary elleth. Seems the stories about her prowess on Arda were true. 

“Me next!” Helen raises her hand.

The Korean woman is grabbed by under her arms like a young child. Luthien’s pale hands do not leave any marks or indents on the woman. Helen thanks her before gloriously stretching out her limbs.

The cells leave must to be desired in terms of room space.

Luthien moves to stand before Jane’s own cell. The queen’s face is stony but she does accept the hand the elleth offers her before stepping over her own cell. She doesn’t say anything to Luthien but only nods her head.

“You know we could’ve been friends, my queen.” Darcy grimaces at the way Jane stills.

Still didn’t know the reason why there was much antagonism and right now didn’t seem the time to hash it out.

Jane raises a brow and a sad smile escapes her. “You represent the very thing I wanted my dearest friend to forget. We never could’ve been friends.”  
Oh. 

Darcy can see Luthien reevaluating the tiny Asgardian ex-queen. Which is pretty standard back on Earth when dealing with the astrophysicist. 

Luthien claps her hands and reaches for her dagger before urging the women to follow her. Sure footed they stepped around the bodies. Even after all the that occured it seemed disrespectful to step over them like cracks on a sidewalk.

Still they exit the prison rather quickly for women who have been malnourished, isolated and with wasted away muscles. They do pause as the sun in all of its blazing glory blinds their senses. It’s all encompassing, warmth caresses their flesh like a long lost lover.

Luthien impatiently checks their surrounds while the women grow accustomed to the light like newborns. She does see Beren step out of the prison and head into a corridor that leads to the great hall as per their plan.

His path was parallel to hers and far more important if one had to guess.

“This path isn’t taking us to the throne room.” Jane hisses to Darcy. Her hand tightly grasps Darcy, the bony prominences uncomfortably jam into her side when Luthien bids them to go behind a pillar.

Helen is pulled closely against the elleth, her face reddened by the closeness. Luthien’s cloying scent dazzes Helen’s own senses.

She follows as Luthien tugs her and gestures for Darcy and Jane to come.

“No, but it’ll take you to your heart’s desire, queen. You know very well what awaits you should you enter that throne room. I cannot guarantee your safety should Loki attempt something.” Luthien’s absent minded reply is disheartening but Jane focuses on one thing.

“Tora’s not with him? She’s ok?” Jane’s energy is renewed to keep up with the long legged elleth’s pace. 

It shouldn’t be funny, but Darcy can’t help the twitching of her lips at the picture of Jane who is half the height of Luthien. 

There is an increase of foliage as they continue down the path that Luthien creates for them. The ground is firm but a well worn walk path is clear even when the environment ahead was not visible to the human eye.

“She is with an ally of yours.”

“Considering I was incarcerated for not being Asgardian enough I didn’t think I had any allies.” 

“Uh, hey, we were thrown in with you.” Darcy puffs out. Her muscles twinge in protest and her side burns. She presses a hand against her ribs to try and muffle the pain. 

Jane waves a hand at them. “Obviously, but no one else on this planet been in support.”

“No one? Are you sure of that?” A voice calls from beyond their eyesight.

A hand appears from the greenery, pale and accustomed to carrying fruit. It beckons them and the leaves and branches bend inwards creating an opening large enough for the women to enter the garden one by one.

As each one one enters the entrance closes a bit more until Luthien has to squeeze to get in.

“What is this place?” Helen wonders as the gardens thrummed and pulse with life.

“The Garden of the Gods.” Fair haired Idunn grandly says, perched on the branch of a young still green branched tree. Her hair freely hung about the tips of which reached her ankles.

Her face, not dissimilar to Luthien’s, was ageless. Her eyes reflected the life and magic that was embedded in the gardens.

“If you’re the ally why didn’t you stand up when Loki did his coup d’etat.” Jane demands to know.

Idunn was of the old dynasty prior to Odin’s own rule. She had been on Asgard since the Realm Eternal had formed, hers was an opinion that all valued. There had been rumors that she once was to be the bride of Bor King. Loki’s control may not have been successfully fought off but there would have been enough backlash that there would have been little to no mistreatment of the queen.

“I cannot leave the Garden. Not for Bor, not for Odin, not for Thor, not for you.” Like Heimdall, Idunn had her vows and duties that she must do always. But that did not mean she did not find loopholes. “There were those that brought me information of the going abouts in the palace. Here you will find sanctuary for none dare to cross me lest I withhold what they want.” It doesn’t take a fool to notice the careful attention given to the gleaming apples that hang invitingly on the higher branches of the tree that she sits on.

She rocks before hopping off the branch, patting it as one would a dear friend before moving to stand before the women.

“What about Tora?” Darcy asks because as fascinating as learning about whatever power Idunn holds here, the child takes priority.

“Beren brings her but we cannot stay here forever. We must plan to send you away from Asgard until Thor’s return.” It was the option that they settled upon. The hope there was that Thor could settle the nobles and making it safe enough for Jane and the child to return.

“Loki isn’t a fool, how can you be sure that he won’t see through your plan and place guards at the Bifrost.”

Jane is the one to speak up slowly as thoughts whirl. “Heimdall answers to the King and Loki is a Usurper. If push comes to shove he’ll obey Tora. She’s got the ruling right until Thor comes back.”

“Which is why it is vital that she stays out of Loki’s grasps.” Idunn says. She returns to her tree where on a further glance was three satchels filled with fruits, and nuts. “The faster you reach my brother the safer you’ll be.”

“I get that and all, but you said my daughter would be here.” Jane says as she throws the straps over her shoulder.

“I said that your heart’s desire would be here. A solution to the problem. The princess is with my husband nearing the Bifrost should everything be going to plan.” The elleth’s tone is gentle but firm.

“Let’s go. Considering who Loki is, I want to be with my daughter when all goes to shit.” 

Darcy stalls Jane’s attempt to leave by hauling on the satchel. Her face serious.

“A bigger group gets noticed. We should split up so if one of us gets delayed someone will reach Tora.” Darcy had learned her lesson when thinking about the events that lead to her return to Asgard. She wonders had the party been smaller if the orcs would have attacked. “I’ll be the decoy. He’ll expect you to head out first in a desperate attempt.”

“You know there’s a chance that you won’t come out of this.” Jane’s voice wobbles.

Darcy’s hand comes to Jane’s face, who holds it closely. “I barely survived being away from my son and he’s a baby. But you….you’ve had years to love Tora. To go through what I did is something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy let alone my dearest friend. Because you are...you know...still my friend.”

Jane squeezes her eyes shut. Darcy feels wetness in her palm.

“Darce.”

The embrace oddly feels like a goodbye.

“Promise me if something happens-” Jane starts.

“Nothing’s gonna happen, don’t you fucking even think-” Darcy can’t bear the thought. They have to believe that everything will go according to plan.

Darcy’s shoulders are roughly shaken.

“Promise me Darcy that you’ll take care of her.”

“Jane.”

“Promise me!”

“I….I promise.”

Helen coughs a bit. She gives her own hug to Darcy before moving to Jane’s side. “If he’s expecting a big group then I’ll stay with Jane.”

“Remember the satchel it carries things that will allow the princess to return one day.” Idunn adds.

Darcy drinks in every single detail of the faces before her as she walks backwards back into the foliage. It engulfs her until she’s completely gone.

**Author's Note:**

> So it's been a million years but I finally decided to post this fic from tumblr.


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